


Draenor Days

by Bentclaw



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: AU: WoD rewrite, Action/Adventure, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:24:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 213,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bentclaw/pseuds/Bentclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varian Wrynn snaps under stress at Garrosh Hellscream's trial, and decides to keep Prince Anduin confined to Stormwind, for the sake of his safety. Wrathion follows through on his preparations to break Anduin out. </p><p>Now irreversably involved in Wrathion's plans and unsure how to proceed safely, Anduin makes the decision to follow him to Draenor. Updates Saturdays!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty guys, this is going to be fun! Basically I just wanted an excuse to rewrite WoD to feature Anduin, and I want to get out some personal ideas about what Wrathion's been up to. I have a very bad track record with multichapter fics, but I have this one outlined and I'm going to try to update it weekly. That means that if you don't see a second chapter next Saturday, please come track me down and spray me with a water bottle. My writing blog, where you can direct all metaphorical water sprays, is http://wolfwritingblog.tumblr.com/
> 
> Before we start, a brief list of things you're going to have to just bear with me on so the tricky setup can go smoothly and we can get to the good stuff:
> 
> -I know that Varian Wrynn, at this stage in his character development, probably would not actually do this. But it was a possibility, and I'm running with it!
> 
> -Vereesa Windrunner is going to have a fit of conscience and decide not to poison Garrosh all on her own, since Anduin isn't going to be available to inadvertently talk her out of it.
> 
> -Jaina isn't going to get shot, since Anduin won't be around to talk Chi-Ji into healing her. I might actually bring that into the next chapter, I haven't decided yet. 
> 
> -For the most part, everything else is going to stay as close to canon events as possible. 
> 
> I don't usually try for multichapter stories, so I'm open to advice on how to handle the pacing. I feel like I'm moving too fast! Hopefully, Anduin's reasons for deciding to play along with Wrathion are clear and add up to a sufficiently believable amount of motivation. I had to do a lot of editing as I went along, so if you see something that seems out of place or incongruous with canon, let me know and I'll fix it. =)

“Are you going to send me to prison without supper?”

Anduin smiled at his father, waiting for the tension to lift and Varian to move on to more important worries. Honestly, there was a time and place to worry about past agreements with the Horde, and Garrosh Hellscream’s trial wasn’t it. Instead of smiling back, Varian just stared at him.

Anduin cleared his throat. The smile fell awkwardly from his face. “Father?”

He’d expected his father to laugh and admit he was being silly. Of course he wouldn’t throw his son in jail for something so inconsequential, and as soon as he realized that he would see that there was also no reason to continue being angry at Jaina. This was the first time in a long time that Anduin had seen him fail to react to a gentle prod like that, and the silence was scaring him. It was like being eleven years old again, with a father who was struggling with himself.

After a long, uncomfortable moment, Varian sighed and broke eye contact. “Right now, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. I shouldn’t have let you become so involved in this. It’s not safe. Our enemies are already trying to use you as leverage. It’s better for everyone that you go back home to Stormwind and keep out of sight until the trial’s concluded.”

“What? You…” Anduin shook himself, scrambling to gather his thoughts. “You can’t send me away! I have a job to do here!”

“Not anymore you don’t,” Varian said harshly. “Now that people know you’ve met with Bloodhoof in the past, your willingness to help with his defense looks suspicious. If you continue, Stormwind’s loyalty to the Alliance could be called into question.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Anduin realized he was shouting, and stopped to take a deep breath. There had already been enough yelling for one day, passers-by were starting to turn and stare. His heart was pounding, and he tried to force it to slow down. He’d spent months here in Pandaria, facing down everything from angry beasts to armies, so how was it possible for a simple argument with his father to still affect him so much?

Straightening up, he squared his shoulders and looked Varian directly in the eye. “Nobody is going to believe that, Father, and you know it.”

His father was just overreacting, the trial had him on edge. That was all it was. If he could just get him to calm down and think for a moment, he would realize what a far-fetched idea it was that anyone would accuse Stormwind of betrayal.

“Of course they won’t,” Varian snapped. “But they’ll say it anyway.” He crossed his arms over his chest and sank down into a chair, the forced casualness of the gesture offset by the stern glare he was now sending Anduin’s way. “I don’t have time to argue with you, Anduin. People are already furious that you’ve agreed to help Bloodhoof with his operations, this is the perfect excuse for them to attack you. The kingdoms of the Alliance know you well enough not to accuse you, but they’re not the only ones upset. Right now, you’re a liability.”

“Not more than Jaina, and you’re not locking her up!” Anduin challenged. In the back of his mind he knew that if it wasn’t for Jaina’s teleportation abilities, Varian would very likely have ordered her locked up. It wasn’t a good idea to test his father at a time like this. Still, he had to try. He didn’t have Jaina’s mage powers, and he wasn’t the leader of any powerful orders, but there had to be something he could use. He cast about in his mind for ideas. What could he could say to knock his father off his current train of thought? “I’ll… I’ll run away again!”

The threat fell flat. Varian had increased the number of guardsmen patrolling the city and stationed around the keep since the last time he’d been home. There was barely an inch of the city that wasn’t under constant watch, and Anduin knew that if he made a serious effort to run away he would be located and brought back almost instantly. Escaping from a search party wasn’t the same as escaping from an army.

Varian rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome to try. And I don’t doubt that you would try, if you saw an opportunity. Which is why you’ll be staying in your room, with guards stationed nearby.”

“But you said I was old enough to make my own choices!” Anduin argued desperately. “You said it would be good for me! Besides, if I just vanish, people really will think it’s suspicous! It will look like you’re hiding something.”

“I have allowed you more freedom of choice because I was assured that it would be safe.” Varian waved a hand in the air. “Things have changed. No matter how heavily guarded we are, no matter how well the Pandaren enforce peace, we still have enemies here. As long as tensions are running this high, you’re in danger. I’m sorry, Anduin, but your safety matters more than your feelings. Come on, we’re getting you a portal back home. Now.” He stood back up and signaled to some nearby guards to be ready in case Anduin decided to make a break for it.

For a moment, Anduin wanted to try. He wanted to draw himself up, say _“you can’t make me,”_ and push his way through the guards to hide himself in the crowd. The reality though was that his father could make him go. He could signal the guards to grab him, carry him through a portal to Stormwind Keep, and make sure he was locked inside no matter how much he objected. His dignity and his pride struggled for control, but after another minute of glaring at Varian and grinding his teeth together, he relented.

“Fine. I’ll go.” Anduin turned on his heel and stalked away to where the trial’s mage provided portals, not waiting to see if his father and the guards were following him. He knew they were.

* * *

 

After staying so long in Pandaria, it was odd for Anduin to be back in Stormwind. His room was in one of the far back corners of the keep, and although it was small, it was bright and welcoming. A large window looked out over the lake, and there was a connected washroom that even had running water piped in by newly-installed gnomish pumps. It was cozy and smelled like home, and Anduin would willingly spend hours there under normal circumstances, but now it felt like little more than a glorified cell. He’d tried the door three times in the last hour, but it was still locked. He knew there were guards outside, he could hear their armor moving every now and then as they shifted their weight, but they wouldn’t answer him when he tried to speak to them.

He’d given up on trying to get a response from outside and had retreated to bed, where he was sitting up against the headboard sullenly twirling a quill pen between his fingers. He’d been in the process of detailing that day’s portion of the trial in his journal, but wasn’t sure what, if anything, to say about his current situation. The trial was historic and he wanted a record of it, not a record where his personal problems overshadowed it. Then again, wasn’t the point of a journal to keep track of one’s thoughts? It wasn’t like he could write any more play-by-plays of the testimony, not unless his father changed his mind. And how likely was that?

Not very likely, he concluded with a bleak sigh. Letting the hand holding the pen drop into his lap, he leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes. This was humiliating. What had his father told the other leaders of the Alliance to explain his absence? Did anyone know he was locked up in here like a misbehaving child? It was getting dark out, and he’d spent most evenings of the trial wandering around the temple grounds and buying food from the Pandaren vendors. Surely someone would have noticed he wasn’t there.

A sudden tapping at the window made him jump. Was someone throwing rocks? He knew that there were some local families living around the other side of the lake, maybe someone had seen his light on and decided to vent their frustration about one of the many problems the kingdom currently faced. That was all he needed. Grumbling under his breath, he crossed the room and threw open the curtain.

Instead of rocks, the source of the tapping was a clawed hand, which was attached to something with glowing eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth that was hovering just outside his window. Anduin stumbled back with a yelp before his brain could catch up and realize that it was only Wrathion. Then his thoughts took another sharp jump forward. What was Wrathion doing in Stormwind? Anduin had assumed he was returning to the Veiled Stair at the end of each day’s activity.

It was usually hard to distinguish between a dragon’s various facial expressions, but the unimpressed look on Wrathion’s face was impossible to mistake. He perched on the windowsill and said something, but his voice was muffled by the glass.

Anduin glanced over his shoulder nervously at the still-locked door. His guards were just outside, and would certainly be on edge after hearing him yell like that, but if Wrathion had taken the trouble to fly all the way up here just to tell him something then it must be important. He pulled at the window’s latch, which had been stuck for years, until it finally gave way with a sharp click. Then he set to pushing the window up. It went unwillingly, in a series of shuddering jerks, while Wrathion looked on in disgust.

When he finally got the window open wide enough for Wrathion, he pushed his way inside, flapped delicately down to the ground and hissed “I said _be quiet, you’ll blow my cover_. This is a delicate operation, you know?”

“Is it?” Anduin asked in a whisper, still working on processing _Wrathion is in my room_. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t know. Are you going to explain what you’re doing?”

Wrathion shuffled his wings in a way that approximated a shrug. He was occupied with crawling around Anduin’s room like a curious dog, apparently taking stock of his possessions. “I’m breaking you out, obviously,” he whispered back. “Just how many useless objects do you own? You can’t take any of this. Don’t you have a backpack anywhere?” He nudged open the closet door and stuck his head inside.

“Breaking me out?” For a moment Anduin was blown away with gratitude. Wrathion would do that for him? Then he was suspicious. “Why? What’s in it for you?”

“Anduin, I’m hurt,” Wrathion answered in a forced-casual tone of voice, continuing to dig around in Anduin’s closet. “Why wouldn’t I want to help my friend, who has found himself in such an unfortunate predicament? No, the real question is, what’s in it for _you?_ ” He turned at last to face Anduin, his eyes flashing in the lamplight. “You’re frustrated, because you’ve been deprived of your chance to see a change in Hellscream. I can give you more time to see that noble quest through.”

Anduin’s suspicions deepened. “What are you up to?” He went to sit next to Wrathion, who had located his rucksack and was casually stuffing clothes into it. “And give me that, none of those things are yours. It sounds like you want me to go on some kind of trip. I can’t do that unless I have a good reason for it.”

Wrathion sighed and allowed Anduin to take his things back. He sat back on his haunches and looked him over, then shook himself slightly as he shifted into his human form, kneeling on the floor. Reaching out, he placed his right hand on Anduin’s shoulder and leaned forward to stare into his eyes.

“I really am trying to help you, Anduin. The others don’t want me to involve you, and I haven’t had much say in the matter. They’ve agreed to allow you to come along, but it has to be soon. You have two choices.” He held up two fingers on his free hand, and purposefully ticked one down when he spoke again. “You can send me away, stay locked away up here, and not do anybody any amount of good.” Anduin tried to shrug his hand off, but he gripped tighter as he continued speaking, moving forward so he could reach out his other hand and press his extended index finger into Anduin’s chest. “Your second choice is to come with me. I have a plan, but I can’t tell you what it is unless I know you want to be a part of it. You will get your chance to prove yourself, to show the world just what you are capable of. There will be challenges that you are uniquely suited to meet. It will be dangerous and we’ll be going a long way, but if you play your cards right, you will be instrumental in helping to secure the future of Azeroth for years to come. Then you can return in triumph, and with nothing the worse for your absence. Are you with me?”

“I…” Anduin blinked at him. As far as Wrathion’s motivational talks went, this one actually wasn’t bad. He was being awfully direct, and seemed to be in some kind of a hurry, so his speech was less flowery than usual. But in the past he’d only watched Wrathion recruit people. The full intensity of it had never been directed at him before, and he suddenly understood why people were so willing to do what Wrathion asked of them. It was very hard to even consider saying no when confronted with such a strong vote of confidence, and in human form Wrathion’s eyes glowed almost hypnotically. He had to remind himself that he’d seen Wrathion’s plans turn out in unexpected ways many times in order to muster a scrap of skepticism. “…What others?”

Wrathion grinned at him, but failed to put his heart into the expression. He looked manic. “That’s one of the things I can’t tell you yet, I’m afraid.” He dropped the fake smile, it looked like forcing it had become physically uncomfortable. “I’m also afraid that you might not, to put it gently, get along with them very well. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I’ve entered into a temporary contract with some very…” he paused. “… _Opinionated_ allies.”

Anduin was suddenly filled with concern. Wrathion was trying to act like normal, but it wasn’t normal for him to hesitate. At the very least, he was very stressed about something, and seemed to really want Anduin’s help. He frowned. There was a chance he might offend Wrathion by implying that he’d gotten himself into something he couldn’t handle, but he needed to know what was going on.

He reached up and grabbed Wrathion’s right hand, gently pulling it off his shoulder and trying not to show his surprise when he heard claws disengaging from the fabric. “Wrathion, are you… feeling all right?”

“Yes! I’m fine.” Wrathion pulled his hand away. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Anduin chewed on the inside of his lip. Wrathion wasn’t hurt, and he didn’t look frightened. But still… He tried again. “These people you’re working with. Are they dangerous?”

Wrathion almost laughed. “Everyone I work with is dangerous. You know that.” He smiled again, and it was genuine this time.

“Even me?” Anduin couldn’t resist asking.

“That depends,” Wrathion answered, tilting his head and pretending to think it over. “Are you someone I am working with?”

There really wasn’t much of a choice, was there? Wrathion was his friend, and involved in something dangerous. He was being asked to help, and if Wrathion wasn’t lying, he would get more time to work with Garrosh. It sounded like a perfect chance, even if it also sounded terrifying. Anduin sighed. His father would be angry, but if he could really do that much good then maybe he’d be forgiven. It would be worth it. Anything was better than just sitting here waiting for news.

“All right,” he said, trying to keep the slight shake out of his voice. “I’ll help you.”

Wrathion’s shoulders dropped, like he’d been holding tension in them, and he gave Anduin a genuinely grateful look. “Then I suppose I’ll have to reassess my definition of danger.”

Anduin swallowed and took a deep breath, then another, then stood up. “Okay. So what do I have to do?”

Instantly, all traces of worry or relief dropped from Wrathion’s posture. He jumped up and dusted himself off, all business. “You’ll need to prepare yourself for a journey. We won’t be able to leave right away, as we are still waiting on some allies to join us, but there will be little opportunity to gather supplies for yourself once you’re out of here. I’ll be breaking you out tonight, before anything can happen that would break my allies’ tenuous patience with this operation. Pack light, but bring as many essentials as you can. In three hours, Left and Right will infiltrate the castle and deal with your guards.” He waved a hand to cut Anduin off from voicing his worries. “Don’t worry, your guards will not be harmed. They’ll simply be rendered briefly unconscious. Left and Right will sneak you out the back, and you’ll take the portal by the lake to Pandaria. I will meet you there.”

In his typical dramatic fashion, he changed back to his dragon form and flew out the window before Anduin had the chance to ask any more questions.

Anduin was left alone with his thoughts and a half-packed rucksack. He lifted it up to check what was already inside, and tried to guess what else he might need. Wrathion hadn’t explained anything, but as always, the things he didn’t say told more truth than the things he did. More time to work with Garrosh? Dangerous allies? Anduin wasn’t stupid. These were things Wrathion had omitted from his explanation for a reason, and he had probably flown off in such a hurry so as to have more time to come up with some positive spin for them. From all indicators, the plan involved an assault on the Temple of the White Tiger, probably before the conclusion of the trial, and certainly with the intent to disrupt it.

Disrupting the trial would logically lead to one of two outcomes, and Anduin doubted that Wrathion would promise him a chance to see a change in Garrosh if the intent was to kill him. This was difficult to look past, but nobody could change if they were executed, and very few people could change by rotting in a cell for the rest of their lives. He just hoped there was a plan for the moment after the initial escape. As Garrosh was now, simply letting him loose was a dangerous and stupid idea.

He considered backing out. When Left and Right came for him, he could just tell them that he’d thought better of his agreement. Wrathion would probably let him do that… but whoever his “allies” were might not. Anybody who would want to free Garrosh would have no qualms with killing him if they decided that he already knew too much. He was in over his head and nothing had even happened yet. This was exactly why he had always been told not to make a promise unless he knew the details of it.

Maybe this was how Wrathion felt too. It was comforting to know that there would be at least one person he could count as a friend.

Now, where was his first-aid kit? He knew he had one somewhere.

* * *

 

Three hours and ten minutes later, Anduin was walking swiftly around the lake, trying not to look suspicious. Left and Right had given him a hooded cloak to match theirs and told him to keep his head down and move quickly. There were very few people out so late at night, especially so near to the outskirts of the city, but portal sites were always minor activity hubs and his breath quickened with nerves as they approached the small gathering of tents. Right didn’t look too badly out of place, but would it really be possible to get an orc and the Prince of Stormwind through a public portal without anybody noticing?

Right cuffed him on the back of the head. “Face down. We came in this way. Stop acting like a frightened rabbit and nobody will look at you twice.”

He realized he’d been throwing panicked glances around at anyone who came close. “Sorry.”

There was no reply, but he hadn’t been expecting one. He managed to stop himself from fidgeting as the portal came into view, but couldn’t help holding his breath when they walked past the Pandaren guards. The portal was five steps away, and nobody was shouting angrily at them. Three steps, and the mage holding it open gave them a cheerful nod but kept most of her attention focused on channeling her magic. One step, and he could see Paw’don Village shimmering on the other side. His heart beat wildly. _This is really happening_. Then they were through, and Left and Right were roughly pulling him away from the portal.

They’d left their mounts, two dark-feathered gryphons, in a small grove a short walk from the village. They set a fast pace toward it, and Anduin had to rush after them the entire way. He ignored the way his knee twinged when he had to run a few steps to catch up. It wouldn’t be long before someone noticed he was gone, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he would go back to Pandaria. Hopefully Wrathion’s idea of a safe hideout would be a good one, because Anduin was sure that his father would order the entire continent turned over once he was reported missing.

“Where are we going?” he asked as he climbed up onto Right’s gryphon.

Neither of them answered him, just kicked their mounts into flight. It was worth a try, but it looked like they’d both hit their daily quota for conversation. Anduin went to pull his compass out of his shirt pocket. If they wouldn’t tell him where they were headed, he could at least try to guess from their direction. A sharp gust of wind made him think better of it and grab onto the saddle in alarm. Better to hang on, and make sure that his great escape didn’t end with him crashing into an unidentifiable smudge on the landscape somewhere.

He lost track of how long they flew, but it must have been most of the night. The Jade Forest below them gave way to a channel, and they headed upward to the Kun-Lai Summit. Anduin carefully tucked the cloak more tightly around himself, wishing he had thought to put on warmer clothes before they started. The air up in the mountains was freezing, and he felt like his hands were going to stick to the saddle. He grit his teeth and clung on. He couldn’t ask for a break. It was like trying to walk a long way on his hurt leg, if he stopped then he wouldn’t be able to start again.

As if taking pity on him, Left and Right steered their gryphons up away from the snow-capped peaks. They were more exposed up high, visible to any watchful eyes, but they were free from the chilled currents generated by the snow-capped peaks.

It was still uncomfortable though, and after a while Anduin gave up on any pretenses and closed his eyes. He clung to the gryphon, curled up, and tried to block himself from thinking about the passage of time until they finally landed.

“You’re here! And you made good time, too.”

Wrathion. Anduin opened his eyes, slightly surprised that they hadn’t frozen shut, and released his death grip on the saddle with considerable effort. He winced at the numb ache in both his hands, and looked over his shoulder to the ground. There was probably no good way to dismount, he was certain that as soon as he was on the ground he would topple over.

“You look terrible,” Wrathion commented, casually walking up and patting the gryphon’s flank.

Under normal circumstances that would warrant a return insult, but Anduin was already having enough trouble keeping his teeth from visibly chattering. He opted instead to scowl as menacingly as possible. After all, if he looked any worse the wear from the flight, it was technically Wrathion’s fault. He gathered his strength, mentally counted to three, and swung his leg over to dismount.

As he expected, he stumbled the moment his feet touched the ground. His leg was sore all the way up to his hip, and he could barely feel his toes. He made a point to topple into Wrathion, which caused him to let out a satisfyingly surprised grunt.

The impact jolted him back a step or two, but he managed to get an arm around Anduin and keep him on his feet. “Now now, this is no time to be dramatic, Prince Anduin. Don’t worry, it’s warmer inside.” He began half-supporting and half-dragging Anduin over to a large door cut in the mountainside, where an enticingly warm draft was billowing up a darkened staircase leading down into the ground. “Welcome to the Ruins of Korune.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! My biggest challenge with this story so far has been working events into the established timeframe for the trial, I've been doing a lot of rereading of War Crimes. Now that it's moved away from there, I have all of WoD to play with! I think it should be a lot of fun. The ideas are still coming and I have been working on writing this every day. I think I might need to add a chapter or two to my estimated chapter count, but I'll handle that when I get to it.

The ruins weren’t warm by any stretch of the imagination, but they were a step up from outside. While Left and Right sent their gryphons off to hide in the mountains, Anduin brushed the snow off his cloak and followed Wrathion down the stairs where torches on the walls glowed with an eerie purple fire that illuminated but did not burn. The sight made Anduin shiver, or it would have if he wasn’t shivering already.

“Not the place I’d pick to launch a secret mission from,” he commented. He’d given up the battle against his trembling jaw and his teeth clacked together uncomfortably as he spoke.

“Well, I didn’t choose the location,” Wrathion answered. “Although truth be told, I can’t think of a better one. We’re in need of quite a bit of space, and we have to be able to get to the temple on short notice. Watch your step now.” He flung out an arm to stop Anduin in his tracks, and pointed. “These tiles are all trapped. Make sure you only step on the blue ones.”

Only the blue ones? Anduin peered out into the vast room, trying to make sense of color in the dim light. His face fell. There were four colors of tile, and the blue ones were few and far between. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted. “I still can’t feel my feet, and you know I can’t jump very far even when I haven’t been out on gryphonback. What happens if I miss?”

Wrathion looked around, bent down, and picked up a small pebble. He tossed it up and down a few times, checked to make sure Anduin was watching, and casually tossed it out into the room. It fell on one of the red tiles with a clatter. Almost instantly, a jet of fire shot up from the ground and almost to the ceiling. In the sudden light, scorch marks were visible all over the room from similar columns of fire.

Anduin reflexively took a step back. He could feel the heat of it from where he was standing, and he could tell that anybody caught in it would be horribly wounded, if they were lucky enough to not be killed immediately.

“What do the other ones do?” He asked. He tried to make it sound like a question of innocent curiosity, rather than an attempt to determine how he was about to die.

“If you’re careful, you won’t find out.” Wrathion patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t be afraid. Left and Right won’t let you be killed.” He made that sound like a command instead of a reassurance.

Left and Right stepped up to Anduin’s sides, and each grabbed an arm. Anduin got what was about to happen and started to protest, but before he could get out any more than a terrified yelp, they had swung him into the air and sent him flying onto the first blue tile.

He landed, thankfully, on the side opposite his bad leg. Left and Right made the jump easily, and stared dubiously at him while he struggled to his feet. “Wait!” he gasped, holding out his hand to keep them away. “I can make it most of the way across on my own. I’ll tell you if I need help.”

Wrathion changed into his dragon form and flapped insultingly casually over to hover in front of Anduin. “Make sure you do,” he said seriously. “I have a few healing potions, but I would like to save them. It would be a shame if someone needed them before we even got started.”

Anduin grabbed for his foot. “Get down here,” he growled. “If I have to jump my way across, then so do you.”

Wrathion just flipped nimbly out of his reach. “No actually, I don’t. I’ll see you on the other side!”

_I’m a pacifist_ , Anduin reminded himself. He wouldn’t lose his temper, no matter how satisfying it would be to throw something at Wrathion. He walked up and down the tile he was on a few times, judging its size, and trying to measure the distance to the next blue one. He would have to make a frustrating number of zig-zags to make it safely across the room, but he thought he could do it without getting tossed again. He just hoped Wrathion wouldn’t have too much fun watching.

The bright side of all that jumping was that it was exercise, and exercise was nothing if not warming. He was red-faced and sweating by the time he got safely across the room, having only needed intervention from Right and Left a couple of times.

“There, you look better already.” Wrathion’s tone was teasing, but he changed back to human form and took Anduin’s arm to help him support his weight. “Now it’s only one more set of stairs and you can rest.”

Anduin didn’t try to shake him off. His leg was really hurting, and much as he hated to admit it, he probably needed the help. “It would have been nice to know what to expect beforehand,” he complained. “You couldn’t have given me any warning? I might have been better prepared if I’d known you were bringing me here.”

Wrathion cleared his throat. “On the subject of warnings, I should warn you now that when we get there you shouldn’t shout, or try to run off, or do anything to cause a scene. We’re working with some highly reactive individuals, I’d hate for you to run afoul of them.”

Anduin stared at him, and tried to imagine what kind of horrible people Wrathion had resorted to rubbing elbows with. The list of groups or individuals that he knew Wrathion wouldn’t work with under even the most dire circumstances was depressingly short, so when he heard a familiar voice calling up the stairs to them it was a huge relief, although the presence of the voice’s owner was a shock.

“Did those guards of yours make it back in one piece, Wrathion?” asked Kairoz, appearing out of the darkness in front of them. He glanced over the group and pulled a face when he saw Anduin. “Oh wonderful, you actually managed to charm him out of his ivory tower. That’s one more thing for the rest of us to worry about.”

Wrathion’s grip on Anduin’s arm tightened slightly. “Everyone agreed not to harm him, and I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

“You’d better.” Kairoz stood aside and let them pass, keeping his eyes fixed on Anduin the whole time.

Wrathion was tense. Anduin didn’t blame him. Other dragons were on the list of groups he hadn’t thought Wrathion would agree to work with. He’d treated Kairoz politely enough on the Timeless Isle, but always seemed like he expected to be attacked when they spoke.

That was why it was an even bigger shock when they reached the end of the staircase and stepped out into a large chamber filled with dragons. They were everywhere, lounging across the floor or speaking quietly in hissing Draconic. Aside from Kairoz, every one of them was the sickly greyish blue color that was the hallmark of the Infinite Dragonflight.

“Warthion, what-” Anduin started, but Wrathion interrupted him with a rough tug on his arm, pulling him close to the wall.

“Keep your voice _down_ ,” he instructed in a whisper. “Kairoz brought them, and they don’t like me. They look at me like I’m food. If you do anything to make them think you weren’t worth my taking a risk on you, they could do anything to us.”

Anduin lowered his voice, but resisted Wrathion’s efforts to pull him away from the stairs. The last thing he wanted was to put distance between himself and the exit. “What are they doing here? What are _you_ doing here? I expected orcs.”

“Ah, yes. There are orcs.” Wrathion stopped trying to pull Anduin with him, having realized that their minor struggle was attracting attention from two or three of the drakes. “They’re late, but as soon as they arrive… here, you should sit.” He gestured to a pair of small tents that were set up rather unsteadily on the stone floor. Left and Right were already stowing their riding gear in one.

He was still apprehensive about wandering so far from the exit, but the promise of a soft place to sit down was too much to ignore. Anduin followed Wrathion over to the tents.

It wasn’t much, but Anduin was glad that the canvas walls at least shielded him from view. He assumed he was in Wrathion’s tent, and took the liberty of commandeering a heavy blanket and a pillow for his own use. “Are you going to explain what’s going on now, or do I have to go ask Kairoz?”

“I don’t recommend talking to Kairoz about anything,” Wrathion told him. “He’s very unhappy that you’re here. As for what’s going on, you seem to have inferred part of it on your own. The Infinite Dragonflight is here to assist the Dragonmaw orcs in freeing their Warchief from his shackles.”

Anduin had a hard time imagining any dragons volunteering to work for the Dragonmaw. “ _Why?_ ”

Wrathion shushed him again. “Believe me, none of us are thrilled to be collaborating,” he said. “I expect there will be a nasty falling-out at some point but with any luck I, and by extension you, will be far away by the time that happens. For the moment, we all tolerate each other.”

Anduin lifted the tent flap to peer back out at the assembled dragons. Confusion was making his head spin. “You know these dragons are insane, how can you agree with anything they plan to do?”

“Like I said,” Wrathion answered. “It’s a delicate operation. Everyone here is deceiving the others, and everyone believes that the outcome will work in their favor.” He joined Anduin at the tent flap and indicated Kairoz, who was speaking with one of the larger Infinite drakes. “The Infinite flight believe that Kairozdormu wishes to join them. His Vision of Time is very powerful. Up until now they have been limited to interfering with the timestream on Azeroth, but Kairozdormu claims he can use his device to grant them access to the timestream on Draenor as well. He is lying to them.” Wrathion lowered the tent flap and grinned. “He certainly can access Draenor with the device, but it is incapable of altering this timeline. He wants instead to create a separate one, in which he can gain control over the orcs rather than allowing them to fall to the Legion.”

“And what do you want?” asked Anduin. If Wrathion’s goal was anything like that, well… what he’d heard so far was terrifying. He would escape or die before participating in a plan like that, no matter how much danger Wrathion might be in.

“I want what I’ve always wanted,” Wrathion answered. He seemed offended that Anduin was asking. “The Burning Legion is an ever-present threat, and I want to maximize our chances of repelling it. Azeroth has two strong fighting forces, but I do not believe they will be enough. Our chances would be greater with a third, and I’m sure you’ll agree that nobody has more reason to hate the Legion than the orcs of Draenor.”

“Well no wonder you’ve been getting along with Kairoz so well,” Anduin spat out. “You’re trying to do exactly the same thing. You’ve had it all planned out, haven’t you? You go swooping in as a savior, and pull them out of one war and into a different one.”

“I don’t get along with Kairoz, and I’ll thank you to stop insulting me,” Wrathion snapped back. He growled in frustration and ran a hand over his face. “You don’t understand. I hoped you would. Don’t you see that the Legion is the most important threat? Anything we can do to stop it is worth it. And,” he pointed out, “don’t you think that it’s better to point a people at an enemy that seeks to control them and let them take charge of their own fate, instead of sitting back and letting them be taken over? I only want the mortal races to have a fighting chance. I don’t want to lead an army, that’s a job more suited for our friend in the temple dungeon.”

There was one mystery solved. “You want to let Garrosh _lead_ again?” Anduin asked. “After all this?”

Wrathion shuffled uncomfortably. “I admit that it might not seem like a very good idea, but… I never said that I was working with _good_ ideas here. I exhausted my good ideas a long time ago. He’s simply the best option. You know he admired his father, and wishes to live up to him. This is a golden opportunity for him to do that. If he can just let go of his anger, he could become a powerful leader for Draenor’s orcs.”

Anduin wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know, Wrathion. That’s a big _if_. I’ve been talking to him, he’s a proud individual, even by orc standards. I don’t think he’s likely to just _let go_ of the indignity of being removed from his city and thrown in prison to be tried in front of all Azeroth.”

“That’s where you come in,” Wrathion said. “You have been talking to him. In fact, I hear you’re the only person that he will talk to at all. If you come with me when I go to get him, and convince him to go to Draenor without fighting, then once he’s there we can work on the rest. And who knows? Once he’s back in the place he once called home, away from the Alliance and the Horde who treated him so poorly, he may turn his sights to less petty concerns. How does the phrase go, again? Out of sight, out of mind? He might not even need to be supervised. We could track down and destroy the Legion’s networks of power while he handled the bulk of the fighting.”

Anduin covered his eyes with one hand and groaned. This was by far the least likely to succeed plan he had ever heard. “If I don’t agree, I won’t be leaving here alive, will I?”

“If you truly feel that you cannot help me, I would do my best to get you out unharmed.” Wrathion didn’t meet his eyes as he spoke. He didn’t have to. Anduin knew how such an attempt would be most likely to end. Wrathion was very strong for a whelp, but he was still young and they would be badly outnumbered.

“I knew it was a bad idea to go along with this. I should leave you here and never even think of speaking to you again,” Anduin said in a very calm voice, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I think if you were anyone else you would have done so already, and left me with several stab wounds while you were at it,” Wrathion answered.

Anduin took a breath and let it out in a long sigh. “I know. But I’m not anyone else. What do you need me to do?”

* * *

 

The zeppelin was rapidly approaching. Anduin could see it in the distance from where he was sitting just inside the door to the ruins, and every time he looked up it seemed bigger. The drakes were restless after being holed up in the ruins, and Anduin didn’t blame them. He had only been with them for three days, but he already felt like he would go out of his mind if the tension didn’t break soon. The plan was setting itself into motion, but it felt slow, like a rusty mechanical device that was clicking and shuddering with every turn of the gears. Anduin found himself checking and double-checking his bag of supplies and pacing around in small circles while he waited. Once the orcs arrived, the Infinite dragons would take wing and move on the temple. According to Wrathion, the zeppelin was also toting a small army of pirates, who were eager to leap into battle, unaware of their status as a distraction.

The fight was undoubtedly going to be a vicious one, and Anduin wasn’t sure if he was glad or not that he wouldn’t be present for it. Soon, very soon, Wrathion would get the signal from Kairoz and come to get him. They would go with Left and Right to the temple, sneak into the prison, and somehow he would have to convince Garrosh that it was in his best interests to follow Kairoz peacefully and without stopping to fight anyone. He wasn’t sure if that part would be possible, but hopefully the promise of freedom would outweigh the desire for revenge.

His hands twitched, and he reached out to open his bag. Was he really sure he’d packed enough food? Water? Bandages? Wrathion had told him that they were going to follow Kairoz and Garrosh to Draenor, but he hadn’t given Anduin an estimate on how long they were to be gone, or what he should be preparing for. He stopped himself, and instead of taking everything out of the bag to go through it again, he pulled the drawstring even tighter. They would be leaving _any minute now_ , he didn’t have time to revise anything.

A hand landed heavily on his shoulder and he jumped. Whirling around with his bag clutched to his chest, he found himself looking up at Left. “He’s ready to leave now,” she said, jerking her head toward the ledge. The gryphons had responded to their owners’ calls and were waiting patiently in front of the dropoff.

They probably wouldn’t wait for him to go and be sick before they left. Anduin gulped and shakily walked over to climb up behind Right.

“Don’t look so gloomy!” Wrathion, in his whelp form, casually settled down on the front of the saddle. “This will be easy, you’ll see!”

Right huffed irritably and brushed him off. Wrathion snorted smoke in her face before going to settle on Left’s gryphon instead. Normally Anduin knew he would insist on flying himself up to the temple, but they were on a tight schedule and Wrathion wasn’t yet big enough to keep up with a trained flying mount.

Wrathion lied so effortlessly that Anduin almost believed him that this was going to be easy. He knew better though, and as the gryphon took off over the mountain he gripped the saddle tightly and whispered a short prayer to the Light. Given the circumstances he wasn’t sure if it would respond to him, but the ritual of it helped to calm him, if nothing else. He went over the plan in his head while they flew. It seemed simple, but he knew that the basics he’d been given didn’t account for the chaos that the upcoming battle would bring.

They would land, not very far from the temple, but far enough to be able to hide the gryphons. There they would meet Kairoz, who would have already set up the Vision of Time to open a rift. Left and Right would make sure they weren’t disturbed, and Anduin would convince Garrosh to go with Kairoz. Then, once the rift was open, the mage Thalen Songweaver would open a portal at their hidden rendezvous spot, and anyone wishing to accompany Garrosh to Draenor would disengage from the battle and escape through that portal.

Anduin wasn’t clear on the details, but he’d been reassured that once the alternate timeline was forced into existence, it would be possible to reach with only slightly altered portal magic. He didn’t think he wanted to know what kind of alterations.

The temple grounds were quiet when they landed. Kairoz was waiting for them when they landed, face taut with stress. They would be asking for a final statement from Garrosh soon, he told them, and after that they would only have a short window of time in which to act. He had already reset the Vision of Time, but there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t be moved prior to the verdict.

They hurried toward the temple. The trial was finishing that quickly? Kairoz’s reported schedule had overestimated things. A group of trolls going into the temple seemed to look oddly at them as they passed. Anduin turned his face from them, painfully aware that if they’d been Alliance citizens they would certainly have recognized him at once. As it was, the trolls paused to watch them go, quietly debating something among themselves.

Wrathion pushed gently on Anduin’s back to hurry him along. “They know your face. We have to finish here and get out before they realize who you are.”

“What happens if I can’t get him to listen?” He asked as they descended the stairs. He had expected to have just a little bit more time to work. Sometimes talking to Garrosh was like addressing a wall, and there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t attack them.

“Then I expect we’ll all be in a significant amount of trouble,” Wrathion answered lightly. “Please do your best.”

He hadn’t really expected anything helpful, but some encouragement would have been nice. Maybe an _I know you can do it, Anduin_ or at least a _If he tries to kill us, I have a plan_. Anduin sighed. “You know I will.”

The cell was open and empty, a disconcerting sight for Anduin after having spent time in front of it while it was occupied. They hid themselves inside and waited. Suddenly, an angry roar filtered down through the thick stone from the main room of the temple. Garrosh’s final statement must have caused quite a stir. Anduin tensed, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before he was returned to the prison.

Sure enough, it was only a few minutes before the dragging sound of chained footsteps reached their ears. Garrosh walked slowly down the stairs, flanked by his two Pandaren guards. Just before they could walk him into the cell, Left and Right stepped out of the shadows and executed a beautifully synchronized attack, sending the Chu brothers toppling unconscious to the floor. They stepped up to Garrosh’s sides, ready to act if he turned hostile.

Anduin took a deep breath and left the cover of the cell. Wrathion and Kairoz followed him. Garrosh looked surprised to see them, but the expression faded quickly.

“I’m a little disappointed in you,” he said in a low voice, staring directly at Anduin. “Out of everyone here, you’re one of the last I would expect to see participate in an assassination.”

“Then it’s a good thing that’s not what this is,” Anduin replied. He took a breath to steady himself and mentally reached out for a little bit of the Light’s strength. _Please help me know the right thing to say_. “We’re here to help. We… I don’t want to see you killed. Or locked away for the rest of your life. We can help you escape.”

“Typical of a human, to suggest running away.” Garrosh sneered at him. “If I thought I could move quickly enough in these chains to avoid your bodyguards, I would kill you for that insult.”

As far as Garrosh’s attempts to bait him went, it wasn’t even a good one. Kairoz kept nervously glancing at the door and gesturing for Anduin to hurry. He ground his teeth together and let some of his frustration from the last few days out.

“Do you want to be killed?” he snapped. “Because as far as I can see, we’re the only things standing between you and an execution, and somehow you still think you don’t need to listen. Do you think it’s honorable to march obediently to your death, knowing that you didn’t even try to avoid it?”

Garrosh drew himself up as much as his restraints allowed, looming menacingly over Anduin. “It is more honorable to die facing my enemies than to run from them. I am not afraid to die.”

“I don’t remember saying you were.” Anduin crossed his arms and stared back, doing his best to look unconcerned at the threatening display. “What we’re offering you is not a chance to retreat. It’s a chance to start over. Some of your Horde are still loyal to you. You could rebuild somewhere else.”

“Where are you suggesting?” Garrosh gestured vaguely around. “Every inch of this world has been claimed. There is no room here for someone like me, and I’m sure you don’t think I should begin my ‘new start’ by slaughtering your people to take their place.”

Again, the bait was easy to see. Anduin ignored it. “If you agree, Kairoz can take you to another world, one which I believe you’ll be familiar with. You’ll be sent to Draenor, far back in time. There will be no Horde or Alliance to war with. Just your people, who I know you once loved.”

Garrosh looked up, suspiciously glancing between Kairoz and Wrathion. Eventually he turned his gaze back to Anduin. “I know you are foolish enough to try to free me out of some pitiful sentiment that I might _see the error of my ways_ , but I recognize that _he_ ,” he pointed at Kairoz, “has no such delusions. I imagine that your other friend is also more clever than you. So you may as well tell me the entire truth. What service are you trying to buy with the offer of my freedom?”

“Something I think you’d want to do anyway,” Anduin said. “Wouldn’t you want to stop the orcs of Draenor from drinking demon blood, if you could?”

He could see Garrosh mulling it over. Everyone knew that the corruption of the orcs, starting first with his own father, had been a point of shame for Garrosh for much of his early life. Although he claimed to have moved past it, hearing the incident mentioned clearly struck a chord.

Wrathion took the opportunity to jump in. “You could take the Legion by surprise, and beat them at their game! You could drive them away from Draenor, and be forever known as the mighty warrior who saved his people!”

Anduin made a face at him and he trailed off, staring back in confusion. Good. Laying it on so thick wouldn’t help at all.

“What he means,” Anduin said, “is that it’s a good opportunity. You don’t have to do what he says. You can do whatever you want. All you need to do is follow Kairoz through the rift, without stopping to fight anyone on the way.”

“You’re asking for more than you know,” Garrosh growled. “By rights, I should have your father’s head on a pike before I leave this miserable world, and the rest of the Alliance to match him.” He turned and gave Kairoz an appraising look. “But I think this one would turn on me if I jeopardized his escape. Very well. I will play along, for now.”

Kairoz nodded at Left and Right. “Get those chains off him. One of those guards should have a key.”

They looked at each other, communicating silently, and then Right lowered her crossbow and began searching through the brothers’ pockets. She found the key quickly, and set about unlocking the chains.

Satisfied that progress was being made, Kairoz turned on his heel and strode impatiently toward the doorway. He froze abruptly upon reaching it, staring up the stairs in shock.

“Kairoz, there you are!” The unmistakable bright voice of Chromie floated down the stairs to them. “I was looking everywhere for you! You know we’re supposed to be upstairs. What are you doing down here?”

Kairoz took a step back. His eyes were wide with panic.

Anduin recognized the expression. He’d seen more battles than he cared to think about, and that was the look of a cornered warrior preparing a desperate strike. He wavered for a moment, but then raised his voice. “Kairoz, don’t hurt her!”

“Prince Anduin?” Chromie sounded confused now, and he could hear her taking a few more steps down the stairs. “Is that you? Vol’Jin said someone saw you, but…”

Kairoz moved in the blink of an eye, flinging one hand outward and shooting a blast of magic that illuminated the whole dungeon for a brief moment. He caught Chromie as she fell, and carried her to the empty cell.

“Wait!” Anduin moved to block him. “Let me see her wounds.” He prepared a simple healing spell, one that would help him assess her condition, as well as helping to alleviate the pain she would feel upon waking.

“She is not severely hurt, only momentarily stunned,” Kairoz explained in an overly patient tone. “She will need to be locked in so she does not interfere.” He brushed past Anduin and set Chromie down on the floor of the cell. When he shut the door, the magical ward reactivated.

The final chain fell off Garrosh with a loud clank. He stretched his arms out, and his face briefly twisted into an expression of rage. Anduin braced for an attack, but Garrosh seemed to think better of charging an armed group. He fell still.

Kairoz either did not notice the brief show of emotion or did not care about it. He beckoned to Garrosh. “Come with me, quickly. The rest of you, restrain these guards before you leave.”

He swept away, Garrosh following at a rapid pace.

When Left and Right picked up the chains and started binding the guards, Anduin had to protest. “Is this really necessary?” he asked. “They’re already unconscious.” He knelt down next to Li and examined the injury. Blows to the head could be very dangerous.

“Take care you don’t spend too much time healing them,” was all Wrathion said in response. “I would estimate that we only have a few more minutes left to be out of here before leaving undetected becomes much more difficult.”

Anduin frowned. His every instinct was telling him to stay with his patients until they regained consciousness. He placed one hand on each brother’s head and sent the strongest healing waves he could muster toward the wounds. Then he stood up. “All right. I’m ready to go.”

As they left, Anduin spared a single glance behind him at the bound guards and the locked cell. He hoped they would forgive him.

* * *

 

The portal was active, but they couldn’t go through. Thalen Songweaver had refused them access, deciding to focus on first transporting all of Garrosh’s allies. His loyalty to his Warchief was his first priority. The process was agonizingly slow. He had to recalibrate the portal to change its destination slightly between sending each group through. It would destabilize the portal’s magical energies, making it harder for anyone to track the magic’s path and follow them. Even Anduin’s claim that he’d been recognized didn’t convince him to speed up. Evidently, the impending recapture of Stormwind’s escaped Prince was not something he was concerned about.

They could hear the roar of battle from their hiding spot. Kairoz’s promised distraction was a big one. Anduin anxiously fiddled with a button on his sleeve. He knew all his friends were powerful fighters, but it was impossible not to worry about them. Anything could happen. The fighting slowly quieted as more and more orcs peeled off and flew, in smaller groups, to be dropped by the Infinite dragons at the portal. The idea was that individual fighters would not be missed, but it was only a matter of time before someone noticed and came to investigate.

“Over there! They have a portal open!” The shout rang across the temple grounds. A group of Alliance warriors had chased one of the retreating orcs outside, and now they were closing in.

Wrathion grabbed Thalen by the front of his robes. “I insist on leaving now.” To emphasize the point, he brought up his other hand so Thalen could see sparks dancing in his palm.

Thalen snarled back, and at first it looked like he was going to refuse. Left and Right appeared from somewhere, aiming their crossbows carefully. Anduin didn’t bother trying to figure out where they had been hiding, the important thing was that the implicit threat worked. Thalen looked back and forth between them and the approaching attackers and grudgingly raised his hand toward the portal.

“Fine. But I can’t guarantee you a safe landing. I still need to calibrate arrival coordinates for five more groups while fending off these idiots, and I can’t afford to waste any of that time on you.” He muttered a brief incantation and the portal sparkled briefly before settling back down.

One of the party of soldiers must have recognized Anduin, because suddenly the whole group was calling out to him. It was time to go. With a panicky jolt, he grabbed onto Wrathion and shoved them both through the portal. They went tumbling out into a field of tall grass, Left and Right following close behind. The portal shimmered for another second and then vanished, leaving them stranded on an unfamiliar world.

Wrathion picked himself up immediately, dusting his clothes off and whipping his head around to check for threats. He quickly shifted into his dragon form and flew up a short distance, turning in the air to look out across the grass. He landed again and shifted back, pointing off to the side. “That way. The rift Kairoz opened came out over there. The grass is all scorched. Let’s go check on it.”

Anduin slowly climbed to his feet and checked his bag. Nothing looked to be broken. He slung the bag over his shoulder and followed Wrathion.

Their pace was slow and cautious at first, which gave him time to recover from the fall. As they kept moving and nothing lept from the grass to attack, Wrathion started to relax. Every now and then he would shift into his dragon form and fly up again to make sure they were going the right way. Anduin knew it was an action born mostly from impatience. He’d brought a compass, so it wasn’t like they were going to lose their way. He was trying, but it was hard for him to move quickly through the grass. The ground was uneven from the roots, and he kept tripping over things he couldn’t see. The sun was low in the sky by the time they reached the rift site, and it was there that they made a very unwelcome discovery.

An orc lay on the ground, clearly dead, with a snapped neck. He had nothing to indicate his clan, and lay just a few feet from where the rift had opened.

Wrathion was on alert immediately. “Kairoz was going to disguise himself as an orc. This has to be him. Something’s wrong.”

The beautiful fields of Nagrand no longer looked inviting. What was there that could kill a Bronze dragon? Was it still nearby? Anduin instinctively drew in closer to Wrathion, and saw Left and Right doing the same. They were too exposed out in the open. They needed a safe place to hide.

A nearby ridge looked inviting, and promised potential places to shelter. With the sun retreating below the horizon, they made for it as fast as they could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GARROSH HELLSCREAM IS VERY HARD TO WRITE DIALOGUE FOR AND I HAVE A NEW RESPECT FOR CHRISTIE GOLDEN.
> 
> Stay tuned for chapter 3, coming next week!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll probably be format issues, I'm at a con this weekend and copy/pasting this in at a coffee shop real quick.
> 
> Edit: There, that should be the whole chapter now, somehow only half of it posted. I know that this isn't how or where the summoning probably went down but we're just going to ignore that because I was too lazy to fix it.

Varian paced back and forth in front of the door to the medical area. After the attack, the temple’s monks had opened up a side temple for healers and injured combatants, and all day a steady stream of people had been going in and out. However, to his frustration, he was barred from entry. Not being among the wounded or a healer meant that his presence was a distraction, and being the King of Stormwind didn’t grant him any advantage. On a battlefield, what the healers said was law.

This was a disaster. He’d known from the start it was a bad idea to hold such an event. All the leaders of the Alliance and the Horde gathered in one spot made for a tempting target. Now, some of their best fighters were out for the count. Jaina had sustained a serious injury, Genn was recovering from a deep gash in one arm, and the only reason they hadn’t sustained more serious losses was because the attack was a distraction. Infinite dragons! Pirates! Treachery!

If it wasn’t already bad enough that Hellscream had escaped, the rumors that Anduin had been seen running around the temple grounds made it all worse. First, an emissary from Vol’Jin had approached him, saying that a human matching Anduin’s description had been seen heading toward the temple. But that was impossible. Ever since his son had gone missing three days earlier, Varian had been scouring the temple grounds because he knew it was the place Anduin was most likely to return to. He’d dismissed the messengers and dispatched a few guards to look around, but he’d thought that the trolls must have just mistaken some other young human for Anduin.

But then there was Chromie, who had swooped down to the ground beside him during the fight and told him that his son was in the dungeon. One sighting of a high-profile missing person could be a mistake, but two in one day, there had to be something to that. His son had been here. And through a stroke of terrible luck, Chromie was locked away in this side temple out of his reach while the healers tended her wounds.

All things considered, he felt he was justified in feeling a little cranky.

It was felt like hours before the door opened to let Chromie back out onto the temple grounds. She smiled at him, not seeming at all surprised to see him still waiting there. “Hello, King Varian! You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, thank you,” Varian said. He walked away, expecting that Chromie would follow him. She did.

“They worry too much,” Chromie said cheerfully. “I would have healed on my own in a few days. It was very kind of them to patch me up!”

“It’s the job,” Varian answered. He hesitated, then continued gruffly. “You told me you saw Anduin.”

Chromie shook her head. “I didn’t see him. I saw Kairoz, and heard someone who sounded like Anduin telling him not to hurt me. Then I got knocked out.” She smiled gently at him. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Varian ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “He threatened to run away, but I didn’t think he could actually do it. And freeing Garrosh… I know he didn’t want to see a death sentence, but…”

“We don’t know the extent of his involvement,” Chromie said. She patted him on his knee, which was the highest part of him she could reach. “When we find him, you can ask him what happened.”

 _If we find him_ , Varian thought glumly. _This is my fault._

With Jaina and Genn both in the medical room, there was no incentive for him to go back to the Violet Rise. Instead, he wrapped his coat tightly around himself and took off walking with no destination in mind. Across a bridge, a short distance from the main temple, he saw a small group of people crowded around something. More trouble? He put one hand cautiously on his sword as he approached.

“What’s going on over here?” He demanded.

One of the group, a tall human with mage’s robes, turned to look at him. “Oh, your majesty! We were just about to send someone to find you.” She gestured to the space they were all gathered around. “These warriors claim to have seen your son going with some unknown individuals through a portal here. There are traces of portal magic in this area, but I’m not having any success determining where it was sending them.”

“What?” Varian rounded on the nearest warrior, a dwarf with heavily battered armor. “Why didn’t someone come for me immediately? How long ago did you see him?”

“Not long ago,” the dwarf answered. He met Varian’s eyes steadily, not fazed by his outburst. “We noticed some of the dragons were carrying orcs away from battle, and thought that was odd, so we followed them here. Your boy was with an orc and two humans, jumped through the portal right quick when he saw us. Didn’t want to get you all worked up until we could find out where they were going.”

“And can you find out? She just said she couldn’t!” Varian pointed accusingly at the mage. “How long were you going to keep this from me?”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t.” The mage crossed her arms, sounding offended. “I said it was taking longer than usual. The mage casting it spent some effort covering his tracks, but no magic is untraceable.”

“There, you see?” the dwarf said. “We can’t do a thing until we get that portal analyzed. Besides, my friends took a beating from them that were escaping this way. Would have gotten you when we were in a fit state to talk.”

It was true, the group looked very ragged. Many sported hand-made bandages over fresh wounds. Varian grunted. “Go on and get your wounds tended, then. And you,” he pointed at the mage again, “get more people on this. I want to know where my son went.”

She nodded at him. “I’ll see who I can find.”

Satisfied that they had a promising lead, Varian kept moving. This was the most information about Anduin he’d turned up in the past three days, and he wondered if there was anything he could do to maximize an investigation’s success. He didn’t understand magic well at all, but maybe Jaina?

He shook his head. Jaina was badly injured. It wouldn’t do any good to have her overexert herself. There had to be someone else he could ask.

The answer hit him like a rampaging Tauren. Kalecgos! Of course, Kalecgos would be well-versed in portal magic. It was in his job description. And he wouldn’t be far from Jaina, it would be easy to find him. Varian grinned and quickened his pace. It wouldn’t be long before he could see his son again.

However, “not long” very quickly evolved to “a week at most,” and from there they hit a wall. The portal had been used to send many people to many different locations, and there was no telling which one Anduin had been sent to. Furthermore, nobody could agree on where any of the intended destinations had been. The most powerful mages to examine the area had a vague feeling that it might have been Outland, but the “energies felt wrong,” whatever that meant. With each passing day, the magical residue faded further. Soon there would be nothing left to be examined.

Varian had taken to pacing around his study deep within Stormwind Keep whenever he wasn’t on-scene urging the mages who were working to hurry it up. By his request, at least one messenger would stop by every day, but none of them brought him any good news. It was a week and a half into the investigation when the messenger was not expected frazzled mage, but Jaina. She was still affected by her wounds, stopping to catch her breath after teleporting herself into his study, but the color had returned to her face and she remained on her feet.

“Jaina!” Varian stopped his pacing, worries about Anduin momentarily made way for happiness at seeing his old friend up and about. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve felt better,” Jaina answered with a small smile. “I’ve also felt worse.” She crossed the room slowly, and smiled gratefully when he offered her a chair. When he was seated as well, she spoke again. “Varian, you won’t like this, but we in the Kirin Tor don’t feel that there’s anything else we can learn from the portal site. Its magic signature has faded, there’s nothing we can do to make it stronger. We’ve decided to call off the investigation and turn our sights to the Infinite Dragonflight. They’re the only combatants who still have a visible presence on Azeroth, so they’ve been designated our number one priority.” She visibly braced for his reaction.

Varian took a deep breath, willing himself not to be the kind of man who would shout at a friend who was still recovering from a battle wound. “If you can’t do anything else from there, I understand.” He bowed his head. “But I can’t accept that there is _nothing_ I can do for Anduin. Do you want me to just give up on him?”

Jaina shook her head. “No, of course not! Nobody would expect that of you, and if we find anything that might point us toward him of course well offer our support. But the situation may not be as dire as you fear.”

“Not as dire?” Varian had to laugh at that, a rough, angry laugh. “The last anyone saw of him, he was being taken away in the middle of a battle. Nobody knows where they took him, or what they want from him. I don’t think there’s any overestimating how much danger he’s in, if he’s even still alive.”

“You think he’s been kidnapped,” Jaina said.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yes, and I admit I thought so too at first,” said Jaina. She steepled her hands on the table. “But then I spoke with our eyewitnesses. They were very insistent that Anduin was the first through the portal, and that he wasn’t restrained in any way. That, at least, suggests he wasn’t taken away by force. Then there’s the matter of who he was with. Two humans and an orc, they said.”

Varian didn’t follow. “Yes, so?”

Jaina tapped her fingers impatiently. “That dragon friend of his, the Black Prince, always takes the form of a human. And I remember that he had an orc and a human as guards when I saw him at the trial.”

“So you’re suggesting that he’s run away to have some madcap adventure with his new friend, because he’s angry with me and acting out.” Varian rubbed at his forehead. He was getting too old for this.

“Well,” Jaina said, smiling. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

No, it wouldn’t be the first time, and Varian briefly let himself entertain the notion. He vastly preferred the idea of a runaway son to the idea of a kidnapped one. There was, after all, safety in numbers. “It’s a nice thought, Jaina,” he said eventually. “It’s all conjecture, though. We don’t know that he’s with his friend. Even if he is, we have good reasons to suspect the Black Prince had a hand in that attack. We can’t trust him not to put Anduin in harm’s way. I have to operate under the assumption that he’s lost and in danger.”

“I know.” Jaina stood up, walked over to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Anduin is tougher than many give him credit for. Have faith in his abilities.” She gave him a last smile and teleported out, leaving Varian alone at the table.

Jaina was right, but her words were unnecessary. It was only his faith in Anduin’s abilities that kept him from shaking the world to its foundations to find him.

* * *

 

Anduin woke, well before sunrise, to the sound of a whispered conversation. Wrathion and Left, by the sound of their voices, although they were too far away to hear clearly. He frowned, scrunching his eyes tightly closed, and willed himself to fall back to sleep despite the noise. Despite all his efforts, he couldn’t. Consciousness asserted itself and he gave up, rolling over and sitting up. He yawned and stood carefully, mindful of the low ceiling of the cave they’d chosen to shelter in. It wasn’t the most comfortable place, but it was only meant to be a hiding spot and a safe place to sleep. He picked his way to the entrance, following the voices.

They were standing just outside, and stopped their conversation when he appeared.

“Good morning,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “Where’s Right?”

“Just gone scouting,” Wrathion answered. “She’s taking turns with Left. The orcs in the area have been very active, it looks as though Garrosh reached them all right.” He stopped abruptly, as though unsure whether or not to relay Left’s full report.

“It’s very rude to hide things from someone who risked their life to help you,” Anduin said. He yawned again and stared out at the horizon.

“Left went back and inspected Kairoz’s corpse,” Wrathion said eventually. “The wounds are all consistent with a large humanoid attacker. We think Garrosh snapped his neck as soon as they emerged from the rift.” He shrugged his shoulders wearily. “Puts a bit of a damper on my plans to negotiate with him about where to direct his energy.”

Fully awake now, Anduin stared at him in shock. “He _killed Kairoz?_ Just like that?” He’d known Garrosh was strong, but killing a dragon was a feat normally reserved for bands of heroes or mighty warriors with enchanted weapons.

“Apparently he was able to take Kairoz by surprise, and snap his neck before he could react.” Wrathion sighed and leaned back. “Right went to scout the encampment nearest the rift, we think he’s staying there. They’ve had fires burning all night, and when the wind is right you can sometimes hear shouting.”

Anduin looked out in that direction with concern. “Will Right be okay? Wouldn’t it be safer for you to fly out and see what they’re doing from a distance?”

“Right is a professional,” Wrathion assured him. “I can fly and I am hard to detect against a night sky, but the orcs would have a greater chance of spotting me than they have of noticing her. She could walk right into the middle of the camp and nobody would notice.” He drew himself up pridefully. “I only employ the best rogues.”

There was no denying that. Anduin knew what he was saying was true, but it was only natural to be concerned. Especially when it felt like he was just lying around while everyone else did all the work. Had the others even slept?

“I can take a watch, if the two of you want to get some rest,” he offered.

“Not neccessary,” Wrathion replied. “Go back to sleep, Prince Anduin. We can take care of it.”

That felt like an insult. Anduin bristled. He’d been invited along to help, not so Wrathion could have someone to coddle. “If I’m going to be part of this group,” he said firmly, “I can do some of the work. Now go to sleep. I’m taking a watch.”

Wrathion looked thoughtful. “I suppose you’re right, although really, I don’t need as much sleep as the rest of you. Your consideration is appreciated, all the same.” He got up and stretched, then squeezed past Anduin into the narrow opening. “Come on Left, may as well so as he says. You must be tired.”

And just like that, they were gone. Although he knew they were only yards away, it still felt to Anduin as if he were completely alone in the wilds of Draenor. Instantly, his senses were tuned in nuch more fully, and he found himself looking around nervously for the source of every little noise. _Don’t be paranoid_ , he chided himself. He had no intention of dragging his weight.

Gradually he began to relax. A night in Draenor wasn’t so very different from a night out in the forests of Pandaria. In fact, it was better, if one took the weather into account. It was summer in Nagrand, and the air was warm. Wild animals were only a threat if you encroached on their space, or if they were sick, and he was sure he would see any humanoid attackers coming in plenty of time to sound the alarm. The grass was tall, but not tall enough to obscure anything that might be approaching their hideout.

Or so he thought, until he looked up and realized with a start that Right was standing just off to the side, watching him with the slightest hint of an amused smile on her face. Wrathion hadn’t been exaggerating about her abilities, he couldn’t see any possible route she could have taken to get up to the cave unseen.

Attempting to hide his surprise, he cleared his throat. “Welcome back. Did you find anything out?”

She looked past him, peering into the cave.

“They’re asleep,” he said, hoping it was true.

Right looked back at him, tilting her head and seeming to appraise him. He waited calmly for the results. Eventually she seemed to decide that he was worth reporting to when Wrathion was unavailable.

“Garrosh was with them, they were hanging onto his every word,” she said. “I heard them talking about Gul’dan, and about the demon blood, but mostly they were asking him about weapons. He was promising to show them how to build things. He had a goblin with him, one of his allies who came through a different portal. Must have picked him up somewhere out here.”

“Oh.” That was… bad, wasn’t it? Anduin thought of what he knew about goblin technology and shuddered. “Do you think they’re going to turn down the demon blood, though?”

Right shook her head. “Can’t say. Some were with him, others weren’t convinced. I don’t know that there’s anything to do but watch and see, but he might have a plan.” She nodded toward the cave entryway, as though there were any chance Anduin wouldn’t understand who she was talking about.

Anduin sighed. Wrathion’s planning so far had a very poor track record. Garrosh was a loose cannon, and he couldn’t help thinking that it wouldn’t be possible to plan around him.

And indeed, it wasn’t. Days went by, and although Wrathion continued to demand almost constant reports on the activity in the orc village, he seemed unwilling to commit to a course of action. He took to sitting at the top of the hill, staring at the distant structures and only coming down when he got hungry or when Anduin talked him into getting a few hours of rest. Sometimes Anduin caught him muttering to himself, fitting together fragments of ideas that never solidified into a real plan.

They couldn’t approach the village. It was primed for battle. Armed patrols rode around on wolves, attacking anything that crossed their path, and they represented only a fraction of the clan’s strength. Similarly, they couldn’t leave. They had to stay and see what the orcs would do when approached by Gul’dan, which could be any time. They couldn’t do anything to influence the outcome, but if the encounter went badly they would have a difficult time escaping the area. The only thing they could do was watch, and keep everything ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

Within a week, everyone was getting a little tense. The orcs maintained their feverish levels of activity, but no enemies appeared for them to aim their weapons at. Anduin kept himself busy by organizing and re-organizing their supplies. There wasn’t much. Their vantage point was visible for miles around, so they couldn’t risk building a fire to cook food. As a result, they were running through their dry rations alarmingly quickly. If something didn’t happen soon, they would have to make a decision between leaving Nagrand and starving.

Three long, agonizing days later, Right returned from a scouting trip at a run, looking more than a little alarmed. Wrathion noticed the state she was in, and quickly flew down into the cave. “What did you see?”

“Gul’dan has arrived. He’s preparing to summon a demon.” Right took a drink from her skin of water. “I think he saw me.”

“He saw you?” Wrathion asked urgently. “How do you know? Did he see you leave?”

“I don’t know if he really saw me,” Right said. “He knew I was there, though. Looked in my direction and smiled, like it was funny. I wasn’t standing near him or making any noise, and nobody else knew I was there. After that he went back to what he was doing and I left, he didn’t pay attention to where I was going.”

“It might be safer to move anyway, just in case,” Wrathion said. “We should go somewhere lower down, so we don’t have to waste time climbing if we need to escape quickly. The orcs agreed to summon this demon?”

“Yes, but it seemed like they were planning something.” Right looked thoughtful. “I didn’t see Garrosh at all. His father was doing all the talking. They could be trying to spring a trap on Gul’dan.”

“All the same, we’d better move.” Wrathion grabbed his backpack. “Be ready to go in five minutes. Anything you don’t think you can easily carry, leave here.”

Anduin knew that was directed at him. His leg had healed quite a bit since he’d met Wrathion, but he still had trouble navigating hills. If they were in a hurry, it would be easier for him to be unencumbered, but everything he had brought with him was valuable. Stormwind rations were light and never went bad, a compass was a useful thing to have no matter where you were, Wrathion had been stealing his binoculars constantly so he couldn’t ask him to leave them behind.

In the end, he decided to just strap his bag to his back extra tightly and hope it didn’t throw his balance off.

* * *

 

They walked until the hills were at their back before Wrathion called a halt. In the distance, they could hear drumming. The sun was going down, the perfect time for a summoning ritual.

“We should be safer here,” he said, “but I still need to know what’s happening. Anduin, can I borrow your-”

Anduin had the binoculars out and was handing them over before he could finish his sentence. “Don’t break them.”

Wrathion shifted into dragon form and took them out of his hands. “You three stay here, and get ready to run if I give you the signal.” He flew back up and perched on a narrow ledge, just high enough to be able to spy on the orcs. From below, he blended into the dark grass and Anduin quickly lost sight of him.

Without the advantage of night vision or the ability to fly to a lookout spot, he could only guess at what was happening by listening to the faint sounds of the village. The drums continued, uninterrupted, until the last traces of sunlight were gone. Then they stopped abruptly. An oppressive silence fell, and even from so far away he felt he could sense the dark forces at work in the summoning ritual. Gul’dan wasn’t performing a normal warlock’s summoning spell, he wasn’t calling up an imp or a felhound. Mannorth was one of the most powerful demons on record. Anduin shivered at the thought of the horrible power required to summon such a creature.

As the silence stretched on, he began to notice that the nocturnal beasts wandering the grasslands had fallen still. There had been a herd of elekk rumbling to each other someplace not very distant, but now it was as if every living thing for miles around was holding its breath. Even the breeze had gone flat, and although it was fully night it seemed like the sky was darkening further. Anduin sank down into the grass, and he could see Left and Right sitting rigidly nearby. Something was very, very wrong and for a moment he worried that the rest of the world would just fade away, blotted out by the force of the summoning.

Then a massive roar erupted from the Warsong encampment. Orcs were shouting, wolves were yelping, drums were pouding, and above it all a demonic bellow echoed into the air.

Anduin was on his feet before he was even conscious of moving. He didn’t want to be within a hundred miles of that noise, but as much as he wanted to flee, part of him was itching to go toward the sound.

He wavered there, taking little half-steps forward and back, until Left and Right grabbed him by the arms and pulled him back down.

“Stay put,” Right hissed. “You’re safer with us then out there on your own.”

She sounded less confident than usual, but hearing a familiar voice was enough to pull him back to himself. He shakily tried to pull away, and they released their grip on his arms to give him back his space.

Looking up at the ledge he knew Wrathion was still perched on, he took a calming breath and tried to stop shaking. How long would Wrathion stay up there? Anduin was filled with an urge to get up there somehow and pull him down. It would be better, he felt, if they all stayed close. Even though he knew rationally that Wrathion’s ledge wasn’t any more or less safe than their spot in the grass, everything in him was telling him that separation was to be feared.

He stood up, looked around cautiously, and decided to try calling up to him. “Wrathion? Are you still up there?” It wasn’t quite a yell, and he flinched at the sound of his own voice despite knowing that nothing was nearby to hear him.

“Where else would I be?” Wrathion’s voice floated back down to him. He sounded unaffected, but Anduin was sure it was an act. “That was quite a show! Now be quiet, I’m trying to focus.”

“Can you see it?” he called up, ignoring the request for quiet.

Wrathion was silent for almost a full minute, and Anduin wasn’t sure if he’d heard. He was about to repeat his question when Wrathion finally answered.

“Yes, I can see it.” His voice finally betrayed some of the nerves he must be feeling. “It’s very big. Now please, stop distracting me.”

“But what’s happening?” Anduin asked. “You can’t just leave us wondering, it isn’t fair.”

“Would you like to climb up and look for yourself?” Wrathion snapped. “I can’t see the orcs very well so I don’t know what they’re doing. I will tell you when something interesting happens.”

As if a huge demon wasn’t interesting enough on its own. Anduin let out a soft, irritated noise and flopped down onto his back. If Wrathion wanted to hold information over his head that was fine, but he wouldn’t be letting him borrow the binoculars anymore.

He didn’t have long to wait for answers, though. A demon roaring in anger spoke volumes, although the details were lacking. And the sounds of a battle, however short, told him that the Warsong orcs had taken up their weapons against Gul’dan and his summoned horror. There was a series of loud crashes, more roaring, and then silence. Normal silence. Anduin sighed in relief at that, relaxing muscles he hadn’t even realized were tense.

The orcs set up a victory cheer. When Wrathion flapped down a moment later to report that Mannoroth had been banished, it was almost superfluous. He told them everything he had seen anyway, flapping around in giddy circles. Grommash had refused the blood, and Garrosh had saved him from certain death. Then, while the Warsong orcs defended themselves against Mannoroth’s wrath, Grommash had sent a huge mechanical device hurtling into him. An unorthodox banishment method, he concluded gleefully, but effective. The Legion had been robbed of their most solid foothold on Draenor.

“What about Gul’dan?” Anduin asked when he finished his tale.

“Ah, well, they were going to lock him up.” Wrathion stopped his dizzy circles and landed on the ground in front of Anduin.

It was easy to see why that would knock the wind out of his sails. “That won’t be effective at all,” Anduin said. “They can’t build a prison that will hold him for even a minute.”

“I know.” Wrathion shifted back into human form and started angrily pulling out handfulls of grass. “He’s probably escaped already. And we have no way of knowing where he’ll go.”

“Maybe he won’t go far,” Anduin suggested. “I don’t think he’ll give up on gaining control of the Horde so easily. If we just keep an eye out, I’m sure we’ll have a chance to find out what his plans are now.”

“That cuts it too close.” Wrathion flung some grass, not quite at him, but pointedly in his direction. “That puts all the power in his hand. We wait for him to move, and then retaliate. We should be moving first, finding something to undermine his power.”

“Like what?” Anduin asked. “You wanted Garrosh’s Horde to hunt the Legion down, but they’re not going to, are they? If they were, they would take Gul’dan more seriously.”

“No, they think they’ve won.” Wrathion sighed and lay back, covering his face dramatically with one hand. “They’re packing up for a conquest, I think they’re going to try to conquer the world. _Idiots_. Normally I would suggest going after the Legion on our own, but…”

He rolled to the side. Anduin frowned down at his back. “Because I’m here, right? You’re worried I’ll get in your way, or won’t be able to keep up? You should have thought of that before you invited me along.”

“What? No!” Wrathion rolled back to face him, eyes wide. “Of course I wouldn’t have brought you if I didn’t think you would make a wonderful addition to my team. But I will admit that my plans…” he paused, then continued reluctantly, “…may not have turned out quite as well as I had been anticipating. I realize that this may not be the adventure you signed up for.”

Anduin’s anger fell away as the implications of that short, hedging, half-apology sunk in. Wrathion’s plan had failed. Garrosh had killed Kairoz, and would certainly kill them too if they approached him. They couldn’t contact his allies either, which meant no mage portals, which meant that they were effectively stuck.

“I still intend to see you safely home,” Wrathion said after a moment.

“It’s your home too,” Anduin reminded him. “Let’s follow Garrosh’s Horde. If you’re right, and they’re moving, they won’t be guarded as securely. Maybe we can find a mage alone and bargain for a portal.”

“Your optimism is stifling.” Wrathion yawned. “But I don’t see anything else we can do. Be ready, they’ll probably leave late tonight or early tomorrow. We can’t afford to give them any head start.”

The Warsong orcs packed up and left while it was still dark, never suspecting that they had a group of spies trailing behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was taking a hiatus from the game during the WoD launch so I'm basically just making everything up. Please bear with me. You may notice I've added a couple chapters to my estimation of how long this will be, that will probably happen a couple more times as this thing goes on. My outline is very rough and doesn't take pacing into account. I've been trying to slow the story down but I still feel like I'm skipping things, so if there's anything that you'd like to see me focus on more, don't be afraid of letting me know. 
> 
> Anyway, before we proceed, A BRIEF WARNING: Some folks get sick in this chapter. It's not excessively detailed but I did manage to make myself very queasy while writing it, so if you're as sensitive to that stuff as I am you might want to skim over that part.

It was lucky, Wrathion mused to himself, that a large column of orcs was slower than a hunting pack. He knew Anduin would never complain, but his leg injury would make it hard for him to keep up if their pace increased. As it was, he ended every day limping horribly, and slept like the dead overnight. He insisted on remaining on the watch rotation, and not even Wrathion’s best attempts to subtly convince him that he didn’t have to force himself would change his mind.

At least he always looked rested in the morning. The trek was pushing him hard, but he wasn’t past his limits yet. Wrathion knew that his watchfulness was unwelcome, so he did his best to hide it, but Anduin certainly wouldn’t tell him when something was too much for him. That meant he had to be paying close attention to make sure nothing crossed the line.

Left and Right’s occasional forays down toward the marching army had yielded very little in the way of useful information. All they knew was that the force called itself the Iron Horde, and that they were heading for Tanaan Jungle. Garrosh had allies there, who were building things for him. Weapons and armor, Wrathion assumed. Nasty, but nothing unexpected. Naturally Garrosh would want to equip his forces with weaponry befitting a modern army.

Food was a more pressing concern. After only a couple of weeks on Draenor, Anduin’s Stormwind rations were almost entirely depleted. The Blacktalon rations Left and Right carried would hold out for a little longer, but they were wearing thin. Wrathion could easily go and hunt small game for himself, but to feed a group, a larger hunting expedition would be necessary. That in itself was a huge risk. Orcs were hunters by nature, and a chase anywhere near the column would not go unnoticed. On the other hand, traveling far enough away to be safe would mean risking separation. They would lose at least a day in their chase, and it wasn’t a given that they would be able to catch back up. When Left returned from scouting one morning with a bag full of fruit in her hands, Wrathion was so glad to see something fresh for a change that he didn’t even tell her off for risking their discovery. This was what the Iron Horde was supplementing their rations with, she told them. There were several whole carts full of them, and one bag wouldn’t be missed.

They’d fallen into a simple routine for tracking the Iron Horde. Get up, pack quickly, and march until sundown. Wrathion flew up now and then to make sure they were keeping a good distance, but otherwise they communicated very little. Talking would take up extra energy, and they needed to use their energy as efficiently as possible.

An hour or so into the day, Left broke routine to call a halt. She becked Wrathion a short distance away. He followed, curious about what could be bothering her.

“We know where they’d headed,” she said bluntly, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Yes,” Wrathion answered. “Talador.” They had already almost reached the border between the two lands. He frowned. “Why do you bring this up?”

“I think we should try to find a shortcut there.” Left dug around for her map. “We can’t keep trailing behind them.”

“Why not?” Wrathion asked.

Left nodded sharply over his shoulder at Anduin. “That one needs to stop. He’s been falling behind all morning. You must have noticed Right staying back to keep an eye on him.”

“What?” Wrathion looked around, a little too conspicuously, but Anduin didn’t notice. He was sitting slouched over on a small rock, with his head down, breathing hard. Right was sitting nearby. As Wrathion watched, Anduin turned his head toward her and they shared an oddly grim look.

Wrathion felt a spike of worry, and fought the urge to rush over immediately. What was going on? Had he overlooked something major? Was Anduin injured?

He walked over to get a closer look, keeping each movement slow and relaxed. If Anduin was injured, then panicking would just make things worse. He had to be methodical, assess the situation. “What’s the problem here?” he asked.

Anduin scrunched his eyes shut upon hearing Wrathion’s voice. He had his arms around himself and he was shivering, even though it was warm out and they’d been hiking since dawn. He alternated between tapping his foot rapidly on the ground and falling alarmingly still, but made no effort to speak.

“Anduin?” Wrathion put his hand on Anduin’s arm and leaned closer to look at him. He looked pale, and the hair around his forehead was soaked with sweat. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head rapidly, then made a face and fell still again.

Wrathion slowly took his hand back, wondering what to do. Clearly, Left had the right idea. They had to stop. Anduin had apparently been suppressing whatever this was all day, maybe longer for all he knew. He scolded himself for not noticing that there was a problem. As leader, it was his job to make sure nothing like this ever happened. Maybe he should look around for a good place to set up a camp? They might be stuck here for several days, but could Anduin be safely moved?

Anduin interrupted his thoughts by making a sudden, panicked noise. He shot up from his rock, eyes wild, and staggered a few years away. He disappeared behind a tree and Wrathion could hear him retching.

Right stood as well, and Wrathion thought she was moving to help, but then he noticed that she looked very pale too. She joined Anduin among the trees, and Wrathion shot a wary glance at Left, who was staring after Right with open concern.

“You’re not going to catch it next, are you?” he asked her in a low voice. He needed at least one of guards to be in fighting condition at all times, they were in hostile territory. They couldn’t afford illness.

“I feel strong,” she assured him. “It may not be contagious. How are you feeling?”

“I…” Wrathion paused to really consider that. He’d had a slight stomachache earlier in the day, but it had cleared up almost right away. “Mostly fine, at present.”

Left nodded once. She looked uneasy. “You know I’ve never been to Draenor. I was born on Azeroth.”

Wrathion waited for her to continue. Left wasn’t one to waste words, so there had to be a reason she was bringing this up.

“This doesn’t seem to be a problem on Azeroth,” Left went on, “but I remember being told as a child that here on Draenor there used to be things that we orcs would eat that no other creatures would touch. It was considered proof that we were the strongest inhabitants of our land and therefore its rightful owners.”

She seemed more uncomfortable by the second, and Wrathion would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious. “Are you telling me you stole us poison food?”

“Obviously, it wasn’t poison to me.” She dug the bag of fruit back out of her bag and tossed it violently away. “Dragons are known for their resilience. That must be why you’re not sick.”

Anduin and Right emerged from the trees and sat with their backs against the trunk of an especially large one. Right’s face was somber, Anduin’s openly telegraphed pain.

“Can you two move?” Wrathion asked. “We’re not safe so near the path.”

Anduin cast a doubtful look at Right, then leaned his head back and shut his eyes. “Not far.”

“Left, go look for anywhere we could go,” Wrathion ordered. “Don’t go more than ten minutes in any direction, but find fresh water if you can.”

She turned and walked away at once, and it wasn’t until she was gone that Wrathion realized he’d sent away his expert on poisons. Dragons had a natural resistance to poisons of all types, so despite spending his tendency to surround himself with rogues, he had never really paid attention to that particular area of study. He knew the basic difference between different types of toxin, and he could probably mix up a basic poison if necessary, but he knew nothing about treatment.

He cleared his throat and did his best to sound commanding, despite his lack of knowledge. “If either of you requires anything, please do tell me.”

Neither answered him, so he busied himself taking everything out of Anduin’s pack and trying to fit it all into his own. Anduin didn’t attempt to stop him, which was worrying. Normally he was very particular about his possessions, and he’d told Wrathion off for looking into his bag more than once. Looking at his things now, Wrathion couldn’t see why. It wasn’t like there was anything here worth hiding. Some medical supplies, an old journal, the binoculars, a spare set of clothes, and various other small items. Nothing at all noteworthy. How disappointing.

He finished repacking and tied Anduin’s empty bag to the outside of his own. When Left got back, he would have her do the same thing with Right’s possessions.

The spot Left found them was a short distance from the path, but it took them nearly half an hour to cover the distance. Every few minutes either Right or Anduin would break away from the group to hack bile onto the ground, their bodies struggling to expel more of the toxin even though their stomachs were already empty. Left had brought some general antidote potions with her to Draenor, but they were proving to be less effective than they had hoped for. Either Azerothian potions wouldn’t work on Draenic poisons, of the effects were simply too strong to be fully remedied.

They set up camp in a larger grove of trees very near the Talador border. A small stream ran nearby, and the trees would shield them from nearby threats. Wrathion made sure that they had fresh water boiling, then shifted into dragon form. “Look after them,” he told Left, “and call me if you need anything.”

With that, he flew up to the top of the tallest tree and perched on a thin branch, looking out toward the path. He knew that there was a small orc outpost nearby, and although the bulk of the clan had passed through to Talador, they might have left some fighters behind. He had to be on alert.

* * *

 

When the sun went down, he allowed himself to relax slightly. Orcs were not nocturnal by nature, and would be far more likely to attack openly during the day than to send an ambush under cover of darkness. Rogues like Left were an exception, not the rule.

Flying back down to the campsite, he saw Anduin and Right were sleeping under the relative cover of some low-hanging branches. Left had unpacked two light blankets and covered them, and she was sitting near Right. She nodded at him when she noticed his descent.

“They’ve only just gone to sleep,” she said quietly. “Do not wake them.”

Wrathion nodded and landed on Anduin’s other side, shifting back to human form and sitting down a short distance away. He noticed that Left had made the decision to keep their small fire going. It made Wrathion nervous, but she had made the right decision. Keeping a low profile was less important than helping Anduin and Right recover. “Has there been any change?”

She shook her head. “They were the same all day, and their sleep is restless.”

As if to prove her point, Right shifted in her sleep and made a slight, pained noise. Left reached for her and took her hand. Wrathion pretended not to see. He also pretended not to see when Anduin made a face and curled in on himself. Was he expected to do what Left was doing? Provide comfort somehow?

Unsettled, he stood up. “I’m going to go get some more water.” He grabbed a jug and walked the short distance to the stream, ignoring how it felt like a retreat. He wasn’t running away, he just needed to think.

He filled the jug slowly. When he returned to the campsite, Left beckoned him over before he could place the jug over the fire to boil. “Bring that here a minute.”

He swallowed a smart remark about not taking orders from his hired muscle. It seemed inappropriate. Instead, he wordlessly handed it over and watched as she dug out a cloth bandage from Anduin’s first-aid kit. She dipped it into the jug and wrung it out, then pressed it to Right’s forehead. It seemed to help, Right sighed and relaxed. Left gave Wrathion a meaningful look and nudged the first aid kit toward him with her leg.

Taking another bandage out, he nervously turned it over in his hands, turning it into a show of inspecting the material. When he got it folded in a way that seemed right, he dunked it in the jug and wrung it out, then stood and walked around Anduin’s legs to sit back down by his side. He gently lowered his hand and patted Anduin’s forehead a few times with the cloth, then drew back and waited for a reaction. Not receiving one, he pressed it down more firmly.

He wondered what the final straw would be. It was a wonder Anduin didn’t hate him yet, every time something went wrong it was on his head. He should have thought to check the food, should have thought to plan for Garrosh turning violent. It would have been better, would have been safer if he’d just left Anduin in Azeroth. By now he and his father would have patched things up, they always did. Anduin must feel like he’d been snatched away on a selfish whim, and it was true. He could get by without Anduin, he always could. And with him here, it was only a matter of time before he got fed up and decided he didn’t want to be friends anymore.

As hard as he’d tried not to, Wrathion had grown very accustomed to his presence.

Wrathion refolded the bandage so the coolest sides were facing out, and lay it down on Anduin’s head. Then he drew back, pulling his knees in to his chest and resting his head on them. He could feel Left’s eyes on him, and decided to preemptively change the subject. “How long do you think it will be before we’re fit to travel?”

She shrugged, he could hear her armor shifting even if he wasn’t looking at her. “No telling. Could be a day, could be a week. It depends on how long it will take them to regain their strength. Illness saps energy like nothing else.”

And with every passing moment, their quarry got farther and farther away. Time to write that plan off as a loss. “Before we were interrupted,” Wrathion said, “you were telling me you thought we should find a shortcut, to get ahead of them and rest. Do you think that’s a viable option for catching up?”

“Could be, if they recover quick enough,” said Left. “We might not want to catch up though. I’ve got an idea where they’re headed.”

Wrathion let out his breath in a slow hiss. “The Dark Portal.” If the land around it could still be called a jungle then it couldn’t be complete, but what Garrosh lacked in ability he made up for with sheer power. Wrathion wanted to believe that he couldn’t get the portal going without Gul’dan, but knew deep down that he could. He hadn’t wanted to say as much in front of Anduin, but it was time to accept reality. “He’s going back to Azeroth.”

“Seems that way.” Left pulled out her map and passed it to him. Out of everything they had brought with them, this scribbly bit of patchment was the most valuable. Left had bought it off an old orc who remembered Draenor. It wasn’t to scale and the handwriting was nearly impossible to read, but without it Wrathion knew they would be hopelessly lost within days.

He took it carefully and looked it over. “We’ll have to go there too of course, just to see how bad it is.”

“Of course.” Right groaned again, and Left tended to her for a moment before continuing. “I suggest cutting straight across Talador. The Iron Horde will be moving on the old Draenei roads. Efficient for a larger group, but as it’s just the four of us it will be faster not to bother.”

“More dangerous, though.” Wrathion sighed and refolded the map. He was hesitant to expose the group to any more danger than necessary, especially after this slip-up. “On the other hand, Garrosh will likely be posting rear guards somewhere, and it wouldn’t do to run into them.”

He reached over to return the map, and in doing so accidentally jostled Anduin slightly. Anduin mumbled something, and he froze. Oh no.

“Wrathion?” Anduin was squinting weakly at him in the dim light provided by the fire.

“Yes, right here,” Wrathion said quickly. “Do you need anything?”

Anduin blinked a couple times. He looked confused. “What’re you doing in Stormwind?”

“We’re not in Stormwind right now,” said Wrathion. “Do you think you can go back to sleep?” He stared wide-eyed at Left. _Help me_.

Left appeared not to be paying attention. She was holding Right’s hand close to her chest now, petting her hair tenderly. If they made it back to Azeroth alive, he was going to fire her.

“Hmm. Maybe.” Anduin frowned. “I don’t feel well.”

Wrathion looked around for something he could grab in case Anduin needed someplace to throw up. There wasn’t anything handy, unless he wanted to sacrifice one of the empty backpacks. “Do you need to get up?”

“Don’t think so.” Anduin shut his eyes and shifted around, trying to get comfortable.

Hit by a sudden flash of inspiration, Wrathion removed his shoulder guards, pulled his coat off, and folded it up until it could serve as a makeshift pillow. He nudged it under Anduin’s head and sat back expectantly. Anduin turned his head into the fabric, sighed softly, and was asleep again in minutes.

Wrathion grinned. That was one problem solved. Certainly he could handle the rest too. He shifted into dragon form and descended, with a few flaps of his wings, to nest for the night in between Anduin and Right. “Wake me in a few hours,” he instructed Left. He would need his sleep to begin unraveling this mess.

* * *

 

Varian leaned over his desk and forced his eyes down a page, hoping that if he just looked at the words of the military report enough times then eventually a few of them would sink into his consciousness. Three weeks, almost a month since Anduin went missing, and there were still no leads, no new information, nothing. The Horde had been quieter than usual during that time, and most reports only contained a few sentences about brief border skirmishes. It felt egotistical to assume that the relative peace was a gesture of sympathy, but he knew that many among the Horde respected and even liked Anduin. Was it too much to hope that they were allowing him to devote his resources to finding him?

He set the report down with a sigh and flipped through the stack of papers and communications that had been building up for weeks. He was falling behind. Anduin would be disappointed in him. He had to do his best for the people even if his personal life was in shambles. A message near the top of the stack was marked “URGENT.” He decided he should probably open it.

The message inside was short and lacking in detail, as all communications marked as urgent tended to be. Those were the ones most likely to be intercepted, so it was a delicate balancing act between giving out sensitive information to the enemy and giving the recipient too little to work with. In this case, the report unfortunately leaned toward the latter problem. Unusual activity had been recorded near the Dark Portal. A messenger had also been sent to Warchief Vol’jin. Further instructions were awaited.

That didn’t tell him _anything_. Varian crumpled the letter up and tossed it onto the desk. Unusual activity? That could mean anything from ogres to demons. And how was he supposed to instruct further if he didn’t know anything? No doubt they hadn’t wanted to impose on him by requesting his presence, but if he was going to get anything done he would obviously need to go out there. He leaned back in his chair to consider his options. The Dark Portal wasn’t that far from Stormwind, and he didn’t think there was any official state business he would need to be here for within the next few days. He’d take a gryphon. Flying always helped him clear his head before arrival.

Flying in at Nethergarde Keep, everything was quiet. The soldiers stationed there didn’t seem surprised to see him flying in with his personal guard, which meant they must have known that whatever was going on would need his personal attention. It was a disquieting thought, but he knew better than to start marching around the keep demanding answers. He would find out for himself what was happening soon enough. He passed his gryphon off to the stable master in exchange for a sturdy horse, and set a steady pace for the portal.

The horses were on edge the whole way down, and Varian didn’t blame them. He hated the Blasted Lands. Even if one ignored the history, the area was unpleasant. The energies coming off the portal charged the air with electricity, such that he could feel his hair bristling the closer they rode. The ground was scorched where lightning had struck, so that there was hardly an inch of ground that wasn’t dark and smoldering. He eyed the clouds nervously. He was wearing full plate armor, as were his guards and many of the horses. Having so much metal in one spot felt like an open invitation to be struck.

“Nice place,” growled a voice to his left. “Think I’ll build a summer home here.”

Varian sighed and answered without turning around. “You didn’t have to come, Genn.”

He’d asked Genn to stay behind and take care of things at the keep, but he’d insisted on coming along.

“’Course I did.” Genn sniffed the air and growled again. “Someone’s got to keep an eye on you. I don’t trust this place. Anything could happen out here.”

“Would you stop with all the noises? You’re spooking the horses.” In truth, Alliance military horses were all well acquainted with the habits of worgen, but Varian would rather not talk about the sorts of things that could go wrong on an excursion to the Dark Portal. He wasn’t a magic-user, he had a warrior’s instincts. Anything that required more power than a simple fireball spell made him a little nervous.

The group’s guide spoke up from the front of the party. “We’re almost there, sir.”

Were they? No matter how many times he journeyed out to the Dark Portal, its proximity to Nethergarde always caught him by surprise. It was down at the bottom of a large crater in the earth, so it didn’t loom menacingly at approaching travelers the way he always expected. Instead, it remained out of view for the majority of the march, until they rounded a corner and saw the magic energies glimmering and swirling at the end of a steep path down into the ground.

Varian’s horse balked at the start of the path, but he patted it to calm it down and then spurred it forward into the crater. The ground here was even more badly burned than the surrounding landscape, but somehow lightning never managed to strike within the crater. The scorch marks here were all from the portal’s creation, and the fact that the land hadn’t healed at all was a testament to the horrifying power of it.

The Alliance camp was set up to the left of the portal, and a small group of Horde soldiers guarded the right. It was an uneasy truce, but he hardly ever had to read reports of skirmishes here. Nobody wanted to start a conflict in front of the Dark Portal. It just didn’t seem wise. The workings of the Portal were still mysterious, and the risk of attracting attention from somewhere outside Azeroth was too great. Normally the two camps stayed separate, as much as the space within the crater would allow, but as they got closer Varian saw that the invisible boundary had dissipated. They hadn’t arrived first. Go’el and Warchief Vol’jin were standing near the stairs up to the portal, and the group of soldiers surrounding them contained both Horde and Alliance.

“Don’t worry everyone,” Go’el was saying. “I’m sure there’s an explanation, and I can’t think of anyone more qualified to find it than- oh good, you’re here.” He beckoned Varian and Genn over. “We were just about to send a summons to the Kirin Tor, but I’d welcome your input on the situation as well.”

Apparently the Horde vanguard had been a little more detailed in their message to their Warchief than the Alliance vanguard had been with their message to him. Varian bit back an annoyed reprimand. What he said instead was “I would love to give my thoughts, if someone would fill me in. I’m responding to a report of unusual activity. Is it the Burning Legion again?”

He doubted it was that. If there were any signs that the Legion was invading through the Dark Portal, every military force on Azeroth would be in a state of high alert. Still, it was best to get the most dire possibilities out of the way first.

“No, at least we don’t think so.” Commander Netherwane passed him a paper, which had dates and times recorded on it. “At the times listed above, the portal’s energies were manifestly different. The color of the magic changed, and it appeared as though something or someone was attempting to emerge. As you can see, these events have grown more frequent over the last few days.”

“Have you sent anyone through to see what’s on the other side?” Varian asked.

“Yes,” Netherwane answered. “Between us and the Horde, five scouting parties have been dispatched. All returned within moments, reporting that the outposts on the other side, at Hellfire Penninsula, appear normal.”

“Interesting.” Varian glanced down at the paper again. “How long has it been since this energy shift happened last?”

Netherwane shrugged. “A few hours, give or take. It’s impossible to predict exactly when it will happen, but we’re due for another soon, if you’d like to stay and watch?”

Varian wanted nothing less than to stay another minute in the Blasted Lands, but what choice did he have but to agree? It would be dangerously irresponsible of him to simply leave someone in charge, especially with the Horde stirred up as well. He nodded, and reluctantly turned to address Vol’jin. “Better send that summons. If anything comes through I can fight it, but I’d like to know what to expect.”

Runners were sent to Nethergarde and to Dreadmaul Hold, carrying a message to along to Dalaran. A little redundant perhaps, but where the Dark Portal was concerned, there was no such thing as an overabundance of caution. Varian and Genn hunkered down in a small tent at the Alliance camp to await a response.

“If they didn’t look so worried,” Genn said, gesturing in the vague direction of the Horde camp, “I would think we’d been set up.”

“I know what you mean,” Varian replied. “But we owe it to these soldiers to at least hear what the Kirin Tor has to say. If they think everything is fine, we’ll go home.”

They didn’t have long to wait. At a speedy pace, it wouldn’t take much longer than an hour for the messengers to reach their respective outposts and get transported to Dalaran. Mages, of course, could travel much faster. Varian expected that they would have some answers before the day was out. Knowing that didn’t do anything to make staying in the Blasted Lands less agonizing, though. The constant rumbling of thunder was enough to make anybody feel paranoid. It was no wonder soldiers stationed out here had such a high turnover rate.

The Horde had returned to their own camp as well, and were quietly muttering amongst themselves. Varian wondered what that was about. They seemed on edge, even more so than the Alliance soldiers, and they kept sneaking nervous glances across the path. Varian wondered if they knew something he didn’t, and if it was worth making a fuss about it. Tensions were high, and he knew that if Anduin were here he would be telling him to wait and see what the Kirin Tor representative had to say when they arrived.

Genn noticed the Horde soldiers’ behavior too, and Varian could see him getting agitated. He looked like he was about to storm over there and demand answers when arcane energy sparked up at the base of the Dark Portal and Archmage Khadgar materialized.

“Good evening everyone!” He stepped down toward the command table, seemingly impervious to the tense atmosphere. “I’m given to understand that you’d like me to inspect the portal?”

Commander Netherwane nodded and moved to shake his hand, an action that struck Varian as humorously businesslike. “Yes, thank you for coming. We’ve noticed some unusual energy fluctuations, and hoped you might be able to shed some light on the source.”

“Hmm, I’ll see what I can do!” Khadgar smiled and turned to the portal, brushing his hands on his tunic as he approached it. He paused in front of it, frowning in concentration, and reached for the magic in the gateway with a spell lighting up his hands.

He was still for several minutes. Varian looked back and forth between him and the portal guards, tapping his foot impatiently. Mages couldn’t be rushed. Finally, the spell appeared to conclude. Khadgar shook his head and stretched.

“I see what you mean,” he said. “Something does feel different. You said you thought someone was trying to come through?”

“Seemed that way to us,” the Horde commander, a large orc, replied. “And there’s something else, too.” He hesitated, looking around the circle.

Varian leaned forward curiously. “Something you didn’t tell us?” He prompted. Despite the seriousness of it, he found he couldn’t be angry with the orc for withholding information. It clearly didn’t stem from any malicious intent, the orc looked nervous. It was an emotion that Varian was unaccustomed to seeing on the faces of Horde military leaders.

“Yes, we decided it would be best to wait for a neutral representative to arrive.” The orc cleared his throat. “One of my men reports that during one of the most recent energy shifts, the surface of the portal grew clearer and for a moment he believes he saw another orc on the other side.”

That explained the general unease of the Horde soldiers. Of course, if the unknown intruder was an orc, suspicion would naturally fall upon the Horde. Varian clamped down on that instinctive response, knowing Anduin would chide him for it. Nobody based on Azeroth would attempt to use the Dark Portal, there were many less dangerous modes of transportation available to all.

“Another orc, you say?” Khadgar asked lightly. “Well, that certainly is curious. I can try to set up a warding spell to shield our end of it if you like, but there is something I feel compelled to mention.” He turned to Varian. “As I’m sure you’ve been made aware, portal spells have magical signatures based on where they lead to. It might be nothing, but our intruder’s location signature feels very similar to the one left by Garrosh Hellscream’s allies when they escaped from the Temple of the White Tiger.”

Everyone turned to look at Varian, some less subtly than others. He carefully kept his face neutral, willing himself not to start shaking. “So it’s them, then?”

“I don’t know who it is,” Khadgar said. “It could be them, or it could be someone much worse. But it is possible, likely even, the the origination site of their efforts is somewhere not far removed from the place your son was sent.”

He paused briefly while that sunk in, then added “Ah, I mean not far removed relatively speaking. I sensed a distinctly non-Azerothian signature, and it matched the one from that portal, but it doesn’t mean that your son is there. He could have been sent somewhere hundreds of miles away, or-”

Genn cut him off. “All right Archmage, that’s not helping.” He put a hand on Varian’s shoulder. “What do you want us to to?”

“I can’t make that decision by myself,” Varian said. “We don’t know who it is, or why they’re trying to get through, but it can’t be good. It would be safer to have the Archmage put up that barrier, but…”

Vol’jin shook his head. “We’ll abide by whatever you decide, it be your son out there.”

“Thank you, Warchief.” Varian inclined his head respectfully. “Then I say let them come. We can stop them here, and push through after them. They took my son, and I will get him back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next week for more of the worst camping trip in Draenor's history.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a bad cold for the last few days, so I can't speak for the coherency of this chapter, but the important thing is that it's done. Let me know if I made any typos while drugged up on cold medicine.

They didn’t make it to Tanaan.

It took the better part of a week for Anduin and Right to get back on their feet, and once they could travel, they were slow. Wrathion insisted that they take frequent breaks, circling overhead to burn off excess energy while they rested. By the time they worked back up to their previous travel pace, the Iron Horde had left them far behind. At least there was no lack of a trail to follow, they had marched through Talador with little regard for anything in their path.

The trail split every now and then, as parts of Garrosh’s forces went off to establish bases and begin their conquest of the world, but the main body of the Iron Horde continued on their way to Tanaan. Wrathion eyed each offshoot of the trail nervously as the full extent of the threat sunk in. They were chasing after the main force to try and stop them opening the portal to Azeroth, but while they did that, the Iron Horde could do vast amounts of damage to the world. If they eradicated the Legion’s presence from Draenor it might be a positive effect, but it was no longer possible for Wrathion to pretend that it was an entirely favorable outcome.

He had been planning to fill Anduin in about Garrosh’s probable destination, but Anduin had figured it out on his own. He approached their chase with a kind of grim determination. Despite having been weakened by his illness more than Right had been, he was often the first to start moving in the morning and the most reluctant to stop every night. Wrathion hadn’t asked him what he planned to do when they arrived. He felt that the answer to that was obvious. Without any allies on Draenor, they were stranded, and the Dark Portal was an easy path back to Azeroth.

Their adventure in Draenor had turned sour quickly, and it was only natural that the Prince of Stormwind would want to go back to his home to prepare for an upcoming invasion.

“Do you think they’ll be able to get the portal working?” Anduin asked him one day while they walked.

Wrathion was surprised by the question, but didn’t allow it to show. He thought they were working under the assumption that it was already up and running. “I’m sure they will,” he answered. “Gul’dan was pushing for its use, but that doesn’t mean he is the only one who can activate it.”

Anduin frowned sadly. “Do you think that’s why it’s so quiet here?”

It took Wrathion a minute to figure out what he was getting at. Taladar was the site of one of the most significant cultural landmarks for the Draenei people, but yet they hadn’t come across a single settlement or traveler. “You’re worried about the Draenei?”

“Of course I am!” Anduin said at once. “Aren’t you? I’ve heard stories about what the portal looks like in Outland. Some of our soldiers came back talking about a road paved with bones. The Draenei were decimated. If the Iron Horde took prisoners on their way there, we might already be too late to save them.”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Wrathion lied. “We haven’t seen any evidence of hostage-taking, and I think that level of violence would be noticeable. Draenei settlements are known for being very well-guarded, it’s possible that we’ve passed several by now without realizing it.” It was true that the Draenei kept well-hidden, but he doubted that the Iron Horde would leave their neighbors entirely in peace. The gradual splitting of the force was proof enough that they planned on expanding to fill every available space on Draenor.

Anduin didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but he didn’t argue. He kicked at the ground a little on his next step. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course!” Wrathion smiled. “I’m always right.”

He could see Anduin struggling not to rise to the bait. His face cycled through surprise, humor, and annoyance before settling on a put-upon sort of affection. “You’re terrible, did you know that?”

“I’ve been told as much,” Wrathion said, “by people who are too simple-minded to appreciate my genius.”

Anduin ducked his head to hide a smile, but didn’t reply. They’d hit a patch of rougher terrain, and Wrathion supposed he needed all his focus for navigating it.

That brief exchange had lifted his spirits more than he would ever admit. Anduin didn’t want to take the Dark Portal back to Azeroth, he had been stupid to assume as much. Of _course_ Anduin had just been worried about its impact.

Anduin Wrynn was a singularly interesting human being. He didn’t seem to have any concern at all for his own well-being. Wrathion was certain that deep down Anduin did contain the same selfish base instincts as every other person, it was just that he was constantly acting at odds with them. Here he was wanting to stop the Dark Portal’s activation, not to protect his people back on Azeroth, but for the sake of Draenor’s inhabitants, whom he had never met and therefore could not even sure were there. The fact that the portal was his best chance at getting home and so it would personally benefit him to allow its activation was apparently not even a consideration.

Wrathion wouldn’t expect any less of him. He could never predict Anduin, he didn’t have it in him to anticipate that level of kindness, but it was always so nice to see it manifested. He set himself to hiking with renewed energy, forging out ahead of the group.

It took them several weeks to cross Talador, during which time their food supplies stretched thin before running out entirely. Wrathion took to hunting small game, lizards and birds mostly, to feed the party. Animals normally didn’t contain natural toxins, so it seemed like the safest option. He knew they were being overly cautious. Humans survived perfectly well on Outland. They were probably surrounded by edible roots and berries, it was just a matter of knowing the safe ones from the dangerous. Anduin was adamant that if they could find a Draenei settlement, they could pick up supplies there. Unfortunately, humans were unknown on this Draenor, and any group traveling with an orc would raise suspicion. Wrathion was almost certain that they were being watched all the time, but Draenei possessed powerful cloaking technology. They could go for months without finding any towns if the inhabitants didn’t want to be found.

It was on one of Wrathion’s solo hunting excursions that he discovered the Iron Horde’s rear guard, and it was lucky that the dark scales of his natural form blended in well with rocks. He had known that they were approaching the mountain pass, and that it would likely be guarded, but one look at it told him that they would not be able to push their way through undetected. The pass was narrow, and there were orc soldiers swarming eveywhere. They were building cannons, perched high up among the rocks, and Wrathion marveled at the swiftness with which they worked. Before long, the path would be a death trap.

Left and Right could get through, he was sure, if they timed it correctly and moved fast. He could just fly over and avoid the pass entirely. Anduin was the problem. He wasn’t noisy, but he lacked a rogue’s training. The close quarters and the high activity level in the pass made it impossible for anyone but a professional to have a hope of making it through without being captured or worse. To add to the dismal nature of the situation, the bird he’d been chasing got away while he was distracted. He flew back with tragically empty claws.

“We could go around,” Anduin suggested. “There has to be another way into the jungle. Maybe we can’t stop them from using the portal, but there’s bound to be some kind of resistance. Maybe we could find someone to help us.”

They were sitting under a small outcropping of rock in the foothills, a safe distance from the mountain pass. It was late afternoon and the sun was still high in the sky, but being so near the mountains meant that their camp was covered by the long shadows of the hills.

“Yes, we _could_ go around the mountains,” Wrathion said. “For all the good it would do. You might be eager to get back to your Alliance, but anyone coming through from Azeroth is more likely to run me through than help me. No, we should have turned around as soon as we realized we couldn’t beat them there.” He closed his eyes and leaned back with a pained scowl on his face. “I can’t believe how much time we’ve wasted.”

“I don’t see how we could have done any better,” Anduin said, crossing his arms. “It’s not like Right and I decided to get sick so we could have a break. If you were that bothered, you should have left us behind.”

Wrathion rolled his eyes. “How many times must I make it clear to you that I’m not going to do that? If I were to go to the trouble of bringing you here only to leave you behind in the wilderness, it would be an even greater waste of time.”

“A waste of time like sitting around whining instead of trying to solve anything?” Anduin said. “Since none of your ideas have worked so far, I would think you’d be more open to listening to me.” He glared for a moment, then pressed a hand over his eyes and stood up. “I don’t want to have this argument. It’s stupid. I’m going for a walk.”

He walked away, leaving Wrathion staring after him with an annoyed comeback withering in his mouth.

Growling, he sank down against the rock he was leaning on. It wasn’t fair for Anduin to leave just when he was getting warmed up for an argument. What was he supposed to do with all that built up energy now? Go shout at some pebbles?

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped at Left and Right. Neither of them had really been looking at him, just exchanging glances with each other, but it was best to stop these things before they started. He was in no mood to listen to well-meaning but annoying advice. He got enough of that from Anduin, who to add insult to injury did have a point. None of his ideas were working. He’d been focused on catching up to the Iron Horde, but hadn’t had a clear idea of what they would need to do if they managed it. Improvising had always worked for him in the past, but his mind was frustratingly blank. There wasn’t anything to work with. Between the Iron Horde and the looming threat of the Legion, there were enemies on all sides.

Maybe he should be seeking out allies. He’d left his network back on Azeroth, having already decided that a support system like that wouldn’t be worth the risk of drawing attention from the Legion. There were things he could do though, without drawing too much attention. Even the strongest armies had weak points, and a little pressure in the right places could go a long way.

A loud shout jarred him out of his thoughts. Anduin! How long had Anduin been gone? There were _tigers_ in Talador, he should have at least sent Left or Right to keep an eye on him. He jumped up and flapped off in the direction of the sound, preparing to breathe fire at any vicious predators intruding on his space. Left and Right grabbed their crossbows and followed after him.

When they found Anduin standing alone and unharmed just a short distance away, it was almost a disappointment. He could use a good fight to work away some stress. He shook himself as he landed, refolding his wings in irritation. “What is it now? Don’t just yell like that.”

“Aww, were you worried?” Anduin’s bad mood had evaporated, and he was almost dancing with excitement. He didn’t wait for an answer before holding a small dagger up for Wrathion to see. “Look what I found!”

Wrathion looked skeptically at the knife. “What is so exciting about an abandoned weapon? In case you didn’t notice, a whole army marched past here not too long ago.”

Anduin smiled and expertly flicked it into the air, catching it by the hilt as it came down. “The difference is that this is a standard-issue Stormwind knife. All the SI:7 carry them, and so do most of the footsoldiers. I’d know them anywhere, I’ve spent hours practicing with them.” He nonchalantly flung it back over his shoulder and grinned when it stuck in a tree.

Right raised her eyebrows and went over to pull the knife out of the tree. Wrathion had to admit it was an impressive throw. When he’d first seen the dagger spinning up into the air, he’d been certain that Anduin was about to lose a finger. It took a lot of skill to pull of something like that, and especially to make it look so easy. He hadn’t known that Anduin could handle a bladed weapon like that.

“Showoff,” he managed eventually.

“It has an Alliance insignia on it,” Right reported. She handed him the dagger, pointing out a small lion carved on the hilt.

Wrathion took it and traced the carving absentmindedly with one claw. He looked back at Anduin, who was still smiling happily, and regretted that he had to ruin the moment for him. “You understand that this means they’ve invaded Azeroth already.”

Anduin’s smile faltered. “Well… yes, maybe.” He reached out and took the knife back. “At the very least it means they’ve sent a vanguard through, to test the strength of their rift.” He indicated the knife, his smile returning. “If they’d crushed our defenses though, this wouldn’t be here. There’s at least one Stormwind agent in Draenor right now, which means they’ve pushed the front lines through the portal.”

“What would they be doing so far out from the battle, then?” Wrathion asked. “A deserter, maybe?”

Anduin shook his head. “If someone wanted to leave, it would be safer for them to hide on Azeroth. I’d bet anything this a scouting party. They must be looking for a safe place to bring more troops. The Alliance is going to establish a military base here, probably several if they can, to keep the fighting off Azeroth.”

“You sound very sure of that,” Wrathion said. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just force them back through the portal and then break the rift?”

“I may not be a warrior,” Anduin said, “but I have done my fair share of studies on Alliance military tactics, and I know how my father thinks.It won’t be enough for him to cut off a threat, he’ll want to neutralize it. We have to go find them! This is our best chance to learn what’s going on with the invasion.”

That was true. A scouting party backed by a large military force would have more detailed information about the Iron Horde’s expansion and strategies than Wrathion could discover by flying about from place to place. Still, it would be risky. There was probably a price on his head by now. He couldn’t just walk right up to an Alliance scouting party and expect to be treated gently, even if he was with the Crown Prince of Stormwind.

Left took advantage of the brief pause. “There’s a trail headed out that way,” she said, pointing. “It’s very slight, but if we hurry we can get an idea of the direction they’re heading before it erodes.”

Wrathion stared in the direction she indicated. Yes, he could see it too if he looked hard. Small disturbances in the ground, the occasional kicked-over pebble. He shifted into dragon form and scented the air. The only humans he smelled were Right and Anduin, but there was a faint trace of something else, bitter and lingering. He thought Anduin had mentioned to him in the past that Stormwind’s best spies and trackers used scented oils to mask their trails from the enemies’ hunting beasts.

“We can’t have missed them by much,” he said. “We might be able to catch up if we hurry.” He gave Anduin a sidelong glance. “If we find them, would you be able to convince them that you’re not being held hostage? I would like to help you reunite with your loyal subjects, but I would also very much like my head to remain attached.”

Anduin nodded. “None of them will hurt you if they see that I’m with you. I’ll make sure of it.”

* * *

 

They followed the trail until dusk. After nightfall Wrathion suggested that they break for the night, but Anduin pushed to keep moving. The slight tracks faded into the darkness until Wrathion, with his night vision, was the only one who could actually see them. Left and Right were used to operating under cover of darkness, and they appeared unaffected. Anduin was doing his best, but his movements were louder and less coordinated than they had been during the day. If the Alliance agents were anywhere nearby, they would certainly be aware of the pursuit. Wrathion was bracing himself to meet an ambush at any moment.

He wasn’t disappointed. When he stepped around the next tree, he found himself staring down the barrel of a rifle. Despite having expected something like this, he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening slightly. Stopping in his tracks, he carefully put his hands in the air. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Left and Right reaching for their crossbows. A quick shake of his head was enough to make them stop.

“That’s right, none of you move.” The human holding the rifle spoke in a quick, angry tone. Another human appeared out of the shadows behind her and moved to flank the group. “Now, I don’t know who you are or why you’re following us, but you’ll tell me everything if you want to leave here with your lives.”

“Wait, stop!” Anduin waved his arms, drawing her attention. “Please don’t shoot him.”

“Prince Anduin?” The human relaxed her grip on the rifle, but kept it pointing right at Wrathion. She raised her head and stared at Anduin. “Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Anduin looked uncertain about if it was all right to move, but took several tentative steps toward her. “I realize you weren’t expecting to see me here, but I can explain.”

“No need.” She jabbed the gun at Wrathion, and he jerked back to avoid being hit in the face. “We were told to keep an eye out for this one. He’s wanted for questioning on quite a number of charges, from conspiracy to kidnapping, but we have orders to kill him if he resists.”

“Well he’s not resisting,” Wrathion said. He got another rifle jab in his face for his trouble.

Anduin put his hand on the gun and gently tried to push it down. “I said _don’t shoot him_. He’s my friend. Put your gun down.” His voice was calm and steady, but the tone made it clear that he was no longer asking.

Reluctantly, the agent lowered her gun and signaled for the other to stand down. Wrathion made a show of sighing in relief. It would be impolite of him to insult their abilities by letting on that he could have taken them both on if necessary. “Thank you Anduin,” he said smoothly. “Now, you two seem to know about me, but I’m afraid I don’t know you.” He looked expectantly between the two agents.

“Agent Kearnen,” the woman said gruffly. She pointed at her companion. “And Agent Trias.” Then she turned to Anduin and, acting as if Wrathion were no longer there, said “Mishka is here too. We’re heading for Shadowmoon Valley. Gathered intelligence suggests that the Draenei living there might be open to working with our forces.”

“Oh, this is a diplomatic mission?” Anduin looked surprised. “I was sure you’d be scouting for secure places to bring troops.”

Agent Kearnen frowned at him. “Our mission has multiple goals. One of which was locating you, though we didn’t expect to succeed. I don’t think I’d better say any more.” She flicked her eyes over at Wrathion for a split second before looking back to Anduin. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like. I’d rather not turn around just yet, and having you in our group might help our case with the locals. None of us are politicians.”

“That sounds great!” Anduin said. “Velen’s told me about what the Draenei villages were like before they had to leave the planet, it would be really nice to see for myself.” Then his enthusiasm faded. “What about them?” He gestured at Wrathion, Right, and Left.

“We could still kill them,” Agent Trias suggested.

Wrathion made a mental note not to turn his back on any of these people.

“No,” Agent Kearnen said. She sounded very regretful. “We can’t kill them, the Prince ordered us not to. But we can take them with us, under armed guard. If he can make them behave.”

Agent Trias gave Anduin a doubtful look, but didn't argue. “All right then. Come on dragon, march.” He started walking and cuffed Wrathion on the shoulder as he passed.

Wrathion seethed quietly while they walked. It would be fine if the Stormwind agents were treating him like a criminal. He deserved that, and it was fun to have some notoriety. Being treated like a dangerous animal was another thing. They hardly ever spoke to him, and went to Anduin if they had anything more complex than directions to relay. What was especially insulting was that they were hanging onto the idea that Anduin was in charge of this whole operation, like he was just some tamed beast.

To his credit, Anduin hadn’t done anything to encourage that notion. He made a point of staying near Wrathion, and didn’t hesitate to speak up if one of the agents started acting aggressive. His presence made what would otherwise be a deeply aggravating experience slightly more manageable. Wrathion appreciated that this must be an awkward situation for him. If the agents caught on that they’d been working together, he would be sent home straightaway and miss out on all the fun of helping this group of deplorable fools make a good impression on the locals.

Honestly, who would send a team of spies and assassins on a diplomatic mission? The way out of Tanaan was certainly treacherous for anyone not trained in the art of stealth, but it would have been smarter to send a trained negotiator with a large force of warriors to punch through the blocked pass. Unless they couldn’t spare any troops. Once the uneasy thought occurred to him, he couldn’t banish it. Maybe three SI:7 agents were all they could afford to send away from the front lines. If that was the case, then the Alliance must be having a terrible time managing the invasion.

No, that didn’t make any sense. The Iron Horde was spread out all over Draenor, they shouldn’t have enough resources to press that hard. And it couldn’t just be the Alliance facing them, the Horde were targets too. Even if they had trouble getting along, the combined forces of Azeroth could easily stand against an army that couldn’t possibly be at full strength. So why were they doing something so clearly stupid?

He was shaken out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to a halt. “We’re here,” Agent Trias said.

He led them down into a small cavern, the entrance to which was concealed by several large rocks. A person could walk right past it without noticing it was there. The inside was lit by several small lamps, obviously Gnomish make, that glowed without giving off heat or smoke.

“Welcome back! Did you find-oh, hello.”

Eye stinging from the sudden light, dim as it was, Wrathion had to blink several times to see the third agent clearly. A Draenei, of course. He’d heard that the SI:7 employed at least one Draenei, she was a perfect choice for a mission like this.

“Hello Mishka!” Anduin said, as if there was nothing unusual about the situation and he’d just met her by chance in the streets of Stormwind. “It’s good to see you.”

Apparently adapting quickly to surprises was one of the talents sought by the SI:7, because Mishka answered him just as casually. “Come in, sit down! You must be tired.”

“Thank you.” Anduin set his bag down against the wall and sat. He gestured at Wrathion. “Come on Wrathion, you too. Mishka is a medic, she won’t attack you.”

The way Mishka’s eyes narrowed at hearing his name told Wrathion a very different story. He pretended not to see and strolled casually over to sit next to Anduin, failing to hide his amusement as the agents all subtly put their hands near their weapons.

“I’m not going to eat him,” he said with a wide grin. “Now, why don’t you tell us what’s been going on with your campaign?”

The agents stared suspiciously at him, but when Anduin cleared his throat and asked a similar question they started talking.

* * *

 

Traveling with the SI:7 was in some ways great, but in some ways it reminded Anduin too much of being at home. He never had a moment alone, the agents were convinced that he would vanish into thin air if they turned their backs on him. He couldn’t blame them. After all, he was planning to slip away as soon as they finished their business in Shadowmoon Valley. Until then he just had to be on his best behavior so they wouldn’t decide to turn around and bring him home.

Once they got over their initial tight-lipped suspicion, they offered up information about the invasion with little prompting. He learned that the Iron Horde had dispatched troops and messengers all over Draenor, with the aim of recruiting as many of the orc clans as possible to bolster their ranks. Most clans were expected to side with them under threat of destruction from the modern weaponry, but the Horde had sent a party to negotiate with the Frostwolf clan, much the same way the Alliance had sent them to find this world’s Draenei. For the moment Azeroth’s forces were deliberately holding back, to give the illusion of an easy victory. Once potential footholds were scouted, they would push through the front lines, destroy the portal if possible, and spread out into Draenor to establish military bases from which to launch the second wave of the attack.

He told Wrathion as much of what he learned as he could. It was difficult to have a proper conversation when there was always someone hovering around. Most often it was Agent Trias, who made no secret of his dislike for Wrathion. The battle plans of Azeroth’s armies were supposed to be classified information, and it was the job of the SI:7 to keep that information from falling into enemy hands, even if the informant was their prince. Wrathion counted as an enemy, which was unfortunate, but Anduin couldn’t judge them for it. He didn’t trust Wrathion either.

He did need to be kept informed, though. In an active warzone, it was dangerous to be running around with an incomplete knowledge of troop movements and battle strategies. Anduin’s days became a tense game of alternately talking to the agents and trying to avoid them, without making it look like he was avoiding them, so he could fill Wrathion in piece by piece. Wrathion offered once to craft him a gem like the ones Left and Right carried, but he politely declined. There were some things that it just wasn’t smart for a prince to do, and accepting a magic gift that let someone speak directly into your thoughts was one of those things.

The best time to talk without being listened in on was usually second watch at night, when everyone else was asleep. Depending on who was on watch, they had between two and fifteen minutes at a time to talk freely. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was better than passing notes while hiking. They sat closely together, a short distance from the fire, and spoke in whispers. When confronted about it, Anduin claimed to have insomnia, and that talking to Wrathion helped him fall back asleep. He doubted that any of the agents believed him, but they all humored him to some extent.

In the end though, there was only so much worthwhile information for him to pass along. He could only know as much as the agents did, and their knowledge was outdated. Before long he stopped finding anything new to tell Wrathion. Their nightly talks became less about solid knowledge and more about speculation. And, of course, Wrathion was always planning.

“When we get to Shadowmoon Valley,” he said one night, “it will be easy to get away from these people. All I’ll have to do is wait until we’ve made contact with the Draenei and slip away. I’ll cause a distraction somehow and then make my escape. I can fly, so there won’t be any trail to follow.”

Anduin sighed. This was the fourth such plan Wrathion had run by him that night. “You’re forgetting something again,” he said wearily. “Left and Right can’t fly, and neither can I. You’ll be leaving us behind, then?”

“Well.” Wrathion frowned. “We could always steal some tame beasts for you to ride.”

“That would leave a trail,” Anduin pointed out. “And I won’t steal from our allies.”

“What if we stole _winged_ beasts?” Wrathion countered. “And I carried you, so you didn’t have to steal anything yourself? I think I could carry you a short distance at least, don’t you?” He shifted into dragon form, stretching his wings out and briefly alarming Mishka, who was on watch.

Once everyone settled back down, Anduin had to laugh. “No, I don’t think so. Not for another year or two at least.” Wrathion was growing steadily, but from nose to tail he was still shorter than Anduin was tall, and his wings had yet to stretch out to adult proportions.

Wrathion snorted and folded his wings in. “Well we can’t keep following these idiots for a whole year. That’s a terrible idea Anduin, really, you’d be lost without me.” His tone grew serious. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back with them? You’ve had more than your fair share of this adventure, I wouldn’t be angry if you decided to go home and lead your people from the city.”

“No, I’ve made up my mind.” Anduin shook his head. “It wasn’t like I got tricked into helping you release Garrosh, I knew what we were doing. So this mess is partly my responsibility, and I have to stay here and help you clean it up.”

They fell into silence then. Wrathion was seemingly absorbed with scratching a pattern in the dirt, and showed no sign that he wanted to resume the conversation. Anduin leaned back on his arms and looked up at the sky with a quiet sigh. He knew Wrathion had a point, that it would be safer and easier for him to go home. The kingdom was at war and he should be at his father’s side for it, presenting a strong front and learning how to lead. He just had this feeling that going back now was the wrong thing to do.

He’d had feelings like that before, that he couldn’t explain, and he had long ago decided to trust his own instincts. They had led him to become a priest, and had led him to Pandaria, and because of them he had been able to stop Garrosh from using the Divine Bell to harm countless people. The best he could describe it was the Light talking to him, but that seemed hopelessly fanciful even in his own head. Maybe he was just imagining things, but even then, his imagination had never led him wrong before.

If he left now, he would feel like the trip was incomplete. There was something here on Draenor that he was meant to do, and he wouldn’t go back home until it was finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to go lie down. See you all next week, hopefully with something that wasn't written while coughing up my entire respiratory system.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always wanted to try writing a fight scene! It was completely unplanned, but a lot of fun. 
> 
> This chapter takes me pretty far off the rails of my original plan. That's not bad, it just means my estimate of how long the fic will be is now entirely worthless. The plot holes needed patching though, so off the rails we go.

They trekked Southward along the mountains. Talador was full of threats, most of which could be avoided with adequate cover. However, they had only been traveling for a day and a half when they discovered one which could not be so easily sidestepped.

They had stopped at around midday for an extended break, to eat and drink and get ready for a long afternoon of hiking. Anduin and Wrathion were resting together near a ledge, under a tree that was tilted slightly over the side. Left and Right were nearby up the slope, and the SI:7 agents were gathered on a short outcropping of rocks so they could keep an eye on the loosely grouped party. Anduin had finished eating quickly and was taking full advantage of the opportunity to stretch his aching muscles out, lying on his back in a patch of sunlight. His eyes were closed. A slight wind was moving the branches of the tree, and the shifting patterns of light and shadow over his face were slowly sending him into a relaxed stupor. It wasn’t a good place or time for a nap, and he really wasn’t planning on sleeping. He’d get up in a moment, he just wanted to lie still for a little longer.

Suddenly, he startled awake as Wrathion dropped the charred animal he had caught for himself and stood. He sniffed the air a couple of times and his eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” Anduin asked, stifling a yawn and sitting up. There weren’t many things that could tear Wrathion away from a meal, and all of them probably required him to be fully alert.

“I heard something.” Wrathion kept tilting his head this way and that in a very reptilian way. Anduin was used to seeing his draconic mannerisms breaking through the surface of his human disguise, but he could tell that the SI:7 were still alarmed by it. They had abandoned their own food and water and were watching Wrathion with undisguised worry, like they were expecting him to turn feral.

“I don’t hear anything,” Anduin said. “What does it sound like?”

“Well of course you don’t hear it now, it’s stopped. It was like digging.” Wrathion sniffed a couple more times. “I smell churned dirt somewhere.”

“We are on a mountain,” Anduin pointed out lightly. He was trying to keep everyone calm, but when Wrathion latched onto something it was often difficult to bring him back down. “Maybe some rocks fell, and that’s what you heard.”

Left and Right, sensitive as ever to their employer’s emotions, were stirring anxiously. As they were technically prisoners, their crossbows had been confiscated. To replace them they had both picked up large sticks, which they now gripped tightly. Having hastily packed away their flasks of water and packets of food they got up and moved to stand in their usual defensive positions on either side of Wrathion. Despite the fact that they were unarmed, Anduin found their presence comforting. It was hard not to get caught up in Wrathion’s alarm.

“Maybe.” Wrathion sounded unconvinced. “Wait, listen! There it is again.”

Anduin closed his eyes again to listen. If he really focused, he could just barely detect a faint scraping sound. It only lasted for a short time before stopping. He opened his eyes and looked up at Wrathion.

“I still think it’s probably just a rock coming loose somewhere.” Resigning himself to not getting any more rest that day, he slowly stood up and reached for his bag. Might as well get moving again.

With a massive rumble, the ground underneath him started crumbling and sliding away. It was like he was standing on a pile of loose sand rather than solid earth, and to his horror he saw the tree in front of him topple over and fall down the slope. He yelled and propelled himself backward, arms flailing, to avoid the same fate. Wrathion grabbed his arm and pulled him back, and he landed hard on his back on thankfully solid ground.

A shout echoed from behind him, Mishka yelling something he couldn’t quite hear over the renewed rumbling. For a brief moment he thought they were about to be caught in a landslide, until she yelled again and he caught the word “ _tunnels_.”

Then Wrathion had him by the arm again and was pulling him. “Get _up!_ We need higher ground, come on!”

Anduin scrambled to his feet, his brain struggling to process what his eyes were showing him. A massive creature, about two thirds the height of a man, was climbing _out of the ground_ in the spot where the fallen tree had been. As he stared in shock, the creature saw him, growled, and launched itself forward into a fluid roll.

Despite the unusual locomotion, it was clearly an attack. Anduin instinctively summoned a shield around himself and Wrathion and flinched backward as the creature bounced off it. It uncurled and brandished its claws, snarling and making strange gurgling noises that almost sounded like language. Next to him, Wrathion mirrored the creature’s threatening stance and emitted a harsh screech. His fangs and claws had grown and there was visible scaling on his neck. Otherwise he remained in a human shape, giving himself a height advantage over his opponent.

The creature stared Wrathion down. They stood still, eyes moving rapidly, assessing each other. Anduin used the brief pause to check on the rest of the group. The three agents were battling a larger group of the creatures, but they had the advantage of a solid rock vantage point. Nothing could tunnel up underneath them, and they could use the terrain to their advantage by knocking their attackers back down. Left and Right were facing off with two more tunnelers. Those ones were employing a vague sort of strategy, one diving under the ground to move to a new position while the other attacked. Left and Right were countering them as best they could, jabbing their sticks at the creatures’ exposed faces whenever they uncurled.

Wrathion stepped in front of him and backed up a step or two, pushing him back up the slope. He shouted something to his bodyguards that was distorted by a loud growl rumbling up from his throat.

Anduin tried to listen and failed, but he saw the results. Left and Right immediately began a slow retreat, leading their band of creatures away. They were circling the rock outcropping that the agents were on, trying to draw as much of the danger away as they could before climbing to safety. It was a dangerous gamble, and Anduin’s head spun as he tried to keep an eye on where they were. He had to keep watching the SI:7 as well, and he had to pay attention to Wrathion, and he had to be ready in case someone got hurt. He didn’t notice his shield wavering until the attacking creature slammed into it again and he felt it tremble. His focus snapped back to the present, and he briefly abandoned his watch on the others to reinforce it with a fresh wave of light.

Wrathion was pacing now, moving along the edge of the shield and looking for a weak spot on their attacker. It looked like he was getting ready to leap out and tackle it. Anduin shook his head, aware that Wrathion wasn’t looking at him. “Wait, don’t-”

“When I say go,” Wrathion said, stopping in his tracks and turning to face him, “drop that shield and run as fast as you can up to your agents there. They’ll keep you safe.” All traces of aggression had vanished from his posture, and he spoke as calmly as if he were discussing strategy in one of his board games.

“And what are you going to do?” A third impact rattled the shield and Anduin grimaced. There was very little time to argue, he wouldn’t be able to hold it up for much longer.

“I’m going to cover you, obviously.” Wrathion raised one eyebrow. “Do you think I can’t handle one pesky little monster?”

If Wrathion was half as good in a fight as he was always boasting, Anduin had no doubt that he was a match for this creature in sheer strength. It was the other factors of the fight he was uncertain about. Wrathion’s opponent wasn’t alone, and they could dig under the ground and pop back up in an entirely new location. That might be enough to give them an edge. Wrathion was more agile, the creatures were sturdier. Wrathion could breathe fire, who knew what kinds of tricks these animals were hiding.

“I know you can fight it,” he started, “but accidents happen and-” The shield sustained a fourth impact, and Anduin felt it buckle a little. There was no more time. His choices were limited. Part of a healer’s training included simulated combat, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold his own in an all-out brawl. “Just be careful, all right?”

“I am always careful.” Wrathion smiled at him. “Go on now.”

Anduin closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to three. Then he dropped the shield and turned, scrambling up the slope toward the rock formation as quickly as his legs would carry him. Behind him he heard Wrathion screeching again, and fought against the urge to turn around and charge back into the fight. It sounded more like a noise of rage than one of pain, and that thought was the only thing that kept him stumbling forward. A guttural roar from the creature turned into a surprised shriek mixed with the telltale sound of flames, and a wave of warmed air washed over his back. He smiled despite himself. From the sound of it, Wrathion had scored a direct hit.

The rest of his short climb was a jumble of confusing noises and terrifying sights. At one point one of the beasts spotted him and started rolling to intercept his path, but Left came out of nowhere and tackled it back down. She and Right seemed to be everywhere at once, beating the creatures back with sheer ferocity. Anduin belatedly realized that they were closing in on the rocks with him, keeping his path safe for as long as possible. He forced himself to move faster, sensing that the sooner he was out of danger the sooner they would get to safety themselves.

He reached the rocks and before he could even locate a handhold, his arm was seized in a strong grip and Agent Trias was pulling him up. “Come on your highness, easy now. Don’t want you falling.”

Anduin’s feet scrabbled against the rock. After several failed tries, he found a foothold and managed to push himself up. He went flying facedown onto the top of the outcrop, Agent Trias somehow managed to stay on his feet.

“Got him, Elling?” Agent Kearnen shouted, kicking one of the creatures in the face as it tried to crawl up onto her side.

“All in one piece, too!” Agent Trias called back.

“Good!” She fired her rifle over the edge, then pulled back to reload. “Tell him to get that dragon over here. If these - what did you call them, Mishka? - don’t stop chasing him, I won’t be able to get a clear shot at them.”

Looking down at the battlefield, Anduin thought that if Wrathion kept up what he was doing then Agent Kearnen wouldn’t need a clear shot. Left and Right had made it to safety, so the creatures they’d been battling had circled around to team up on him. Despite being outnumbered, he was putting up an incredible fight. He nimbly sidestepped a charge by one, breathed a jet of fire at another, and pounced, snarling, to scratch at the exposed face of a third. It curled up immediately and rolled away, goading Wrathion to follow it.

Wrathion took the bait and briefly gave chase. The other beasts took advantage of his momentary distraction to group together and coordinate an attack. They charged him all at once, closing in from every direction. Suddenly Wrathion was on the defensive. He dodged the oncoming impacts with impressive speed and roared, exhaling a huge wall of flame between himself and his opponents. Unfortunately, the makeshift barrier didn’t even slow them down. They rolled through it without any concern and emerged unscathed on the other side.

Mishka shook her head. “Goren nest near magma,” she said. “Fire won’t harm them when they’re curled up.”

Goren. Anduin stared down at the creatures, willing himself to remember the strange word as if that knowledge would unlock some insight about the creatures’ weaknesses that he could exploit to help his friend. Even from a distance, he could tell that Wrathion was tiring. Producing so much fire had taken a lot out of him. He was oddly hunched over, and he was slowing down. Why didn’t he fly to safety? Was he trying to chase them away on his own?

There was only so much Anduin could take. Feeling that he had to do something, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled down at the combatants. “Everyone’s safe now, Wrathion! You can retreat now!”

Wrathion’s head jerked up to look at Anduin. His expression was distant and his eyes were glowing more brightly than usual. They dimmed slightly as he took in his surroundings, nodding in comprehension. With a step back from the goren, Wrathion shifted fully into dragon form. Finally, he was going to disengage from the fight. Anduin breathed a sigh of relief. Young dragons were notorious for their rages, and he thanked the Light that Wrathion had the presence of mind to recognize when a battle was going poorly.

Bellowing loudly, one of the goren broke from the group and leaped for Wrathion as he took to the sky. It swiped at him with one claw, and although Wrathion tried to dodge, he wasn’t quick enough. The strike sent him sailing in a wide arc to land some distance away with a cry of pain. Anduin didn’t realize he’d moved until he realized Mishka had come rushing up from behind and restrained him. He had to get closer, none of his abilities were any use at this distance.

“Wrathion! Get up!” He thrashed one arm free to fling a spell at the group of goren. It fell hopelessly short, but served as a distraction. The goren hesitated in pursuing Wrathion for only a moment, but it was enough time for him to right himself and launch into the air again.

Was he going to make it? Anduin’s teeth ground together with anxiety. Wrathion’s flight was wobbly and slow. One moment he would rise up toward the safety of the rocks, and the next he would drop alarmingly. One of his forelimbs was tucked tightly against his chest, throwing off his balance. When he drifted close enough, it was obvious that he had his eyes squeezed shut. There was no way he could land safely. Anduin pulled his other arm out of Mishka’s grasp and ran forward to the edge of the rocks just in time to intercept a crash.

All the air in his lungs left him with a huff when Wrathion collided with his chest. Being small by dragon standards didn’t make him any less heavy. Left and Right were at his side in an instant, steadying him and helping him lower Wrathion gently to the ground. Paying no mind to the unfolding drama, Agent Kearnen pushed past them, lifted her rifle and began shooting at the group of goren. With nothing left on the ground to hunt and an assault of painful projectiles from above, they growled back and forth amongst themselves for a moment and then tunneled under the ground and were gone.

Before Anduin could get a look at Wrathion’s injury, he shapeshifted. Holding his sleeve down firmly over his left arm, Wrathion shuffled away with a low hiss.

“Don’t touch it,” he ordered. “I’m fine, it’s only a couple scratches. I just got the wind knocked out of me.”

“A couple of scratches could be dangerous if they get infected,” Anduin said. “You need to let me or Mishka have a look at them.”

Wrathion looked at Mishka. Clearly, he was questioning her willingness to treat him. She had some bandages and disinfectant out and was already assessing a gash on Agent Kearnen’s leg. Without looking up, she said “Goren use their claws to dig through all manner of things. It’s best to have the wounds cleaned and bandaged, if you can.”

Anduin smiled at her, the gesture went unacknowledged. “You see? I know you don’t want to, and maybe it isn’t necessary, but it would make me feel better if you’d let me treat you.”

Reluctantly, Wrathion held the arm out, but not far enough for Anduin to reach it. “Fine,” he said. “Do what you want, if it will stop your fussing.” He wouldn’t make eye contact, and had adopted an air of boredom.

Calling him out on pouting was tempting, but Anduin didn’t want to get into an argument with the agents around. It would be embarrassing. Instead he picked up his bag with a long-suffering sigh and moved to sit closer to Wrathion. “Mishka, can I borrow some of that disinfectant?”

She made an affirmative sort of noise and pushed the bottle toward him. He leaned over to reach it with a thankful smile. Digging out a clean cloth from his bag, he turned back to Wrathion. “Okay, this will probably hurt.”

* * *

 

Wrathion tried to hold still when Anduin pulled his sleeve up and exposed the gashes to the air. Instincts told him to keep the wounds concealed until they got better, which would be soon. Dragons healed faster than humans. There was no need for this whole song and dance. If everyone just left him alone, he would be back to normal within a week. Rationally he understood that they couldn’t wait a week to let it heal naturally. Those infuriating things would probably come back, and he would need to be in good shape to run them off again. Knowing that didn’t make him feel less defensive, and he couldn’t stop himself from snarling and trying to pull away when Anduin placed a soft pad soaked in alcohol on the wounds.

Anduin didn’t even flinch at the sight, but several of the agents jumped up in alarm. “It’s okay,” he said, gesturing with his free hand for them to relax. He wiped the wound off gently, which didn’t stop the sting. Wrathion forced his mouth closed, covering his teeth. Anduin smiled at him. “I’m sorry about that, I know it hurts. It means the disinfectant is working.”

It was no wonder humans made such a fuss about wounds, their healing practices made everything worse. Focusing on Anduin’s face helped take his mind off what was happening with his arm.

“There, done! That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Anduin gave him a teasing smile and set the disinfectant aside. “Now, I can bandage it for you if you like, but it might be inconvenient. If it’s okay, could I try to heal it?”

Light flickered around his hands, illuminating his face with a soft glow. Wrathion narrowed his eyes and mulled it over. He couldn’t say he didn’t trust magic, he had willingly experimented with much stranger magic than a simple healing spell in the past. And he couldn’t say he didn’t trust Anduin. There was no particular reason that the suggestion should make him nervous.

And yet.

“You’re sure you can?” The question came out a little more aggressive than he’d planned. Anduin looked surprised.

“Well yes,” he said. “Unless there’s some major difference between healing a dragon and healing anyone else, which, if there is, you should tell me now. I’d like to know.”

What a ridiculous question. Obviously there were lots of differences, and how many different types of people could Anduin really have experience healing? Wrathion was willing to bet that he’d only trained on humans or Draenei, maybe the odd dwarf or two. He decided to filter out the most obvious ones. Best to stick with suggestions that might actually help.

“I’m resistant to magic of all types,” he said. “It’s a property of dragon scales. You may find that it requires more of your energy than you think it will.”

“Is that permission to try?” Anduin sounded very eager, which was oddly flattering. There was an excited spark in his eyes as he leaned closer to examine the wound more carefully.

Wrathion found he couldn’t say no to that face, not when there was no real reason to. He nodded silently and held his arm up again.

Experience dictated that anything glowing like that should produce some heat, but the healing spell that enveloped his arm was surprisingly cool. To soothe pain, he assumed. There was also a tingling feeling where the wounds were sealing themselves, sort of like having the arm fall asleep but without any of the discomfort. It felt nice, in an interesting sort of way. Wrathion hadn’t been intending to watch the process. he’d had his head turned so he wouldn’t have to see it, but he had looked over on impulse at the unexpected chill and now he couldn’t look away.

Under the glow, his flesh was sealing itself. Slowly, Anduin wasn’t yet an experienced healer, but the progress was visible. Anduin was supporting his arm with one hand, while the other moved in slow, precise circles over the wounds. He wasn’t quite touching them, just hovering his hand over them, and Wrathion wasn’t sure he was conscious of the movements. He too was watching the spell work, and there was a look of intense concentration on his face. It was the same expression he always got when he was planning his next move in a game, Wrathion realized, and he surprised himself by starting to laugh.

“What?” Anduin looked up, utterly baffled. “What’s so funny?”

Wrathion shook his head, pressing his free hand over his mouth to muffle his snickering. He couldn’t explain it, there was nothing funny. He just felt _good_ all of a sudden. He felt giddy and a little lightheaded, and normally he hated it when his faculties went offline but he found himself not caring. Maybe it was the adrenaline wearing off, maybe it was a side-effect of the healing magic, or maybe it was something else. All he knew was that he hadn’t been this relaxed in weeks.

The corners of Anduin’s mouth were twitching upward now as he fought down a smile. “Stop, you’re going to make me mess up.”

“If that’s all it takes, you’ll be hopeless in a real emergency.” There was still laughter in his voice, but he managed to get a grip by reminding himself that they were not alone up on this rock.

Anduin finished the healing in silence. Wrathion didn’t look up the entire time, keeping his eyes on either the spellwork or Anduin himself. He wasn’t sure what the rest of the group had thought about his sudden outburst, and he decided he didn’t want to know. Left and Right, tactful as always, would pretend not to have seen him acting like an overexcited child. The SI:7 agents, on the other hand, might not know enough to keep their comments to themselves. Still, he couldn’t yet find it in himself to be annoyed. The strange mood had mostly passed, but had left him with a lingering contentment.

Finally, Anduin waved his hands over Wrathion’s arm a final time and the healing glow dissipated. Wrathion flexed the arm and found it completely back to normal, only a few faint marks indicating where he’d been injured. He prodded at the marks with a finger, but the skin there seemed just as healthy as the surrounding areas.

“I can erase those for you, if you like.” The Draenei healer, Mishka, spoke up from her resting place nearer the top of the outcrop. “Prince Anduin did a fine job, but experience is needed for small things like that.”

Wrathion shook his head. “No thank you,” he said emphatically. “They’ll fade on their own.” There were very few things that would leave permanent marks on his human form, and he was certain that this was not one of them.

Mishka had sounded much kinder than she normally did when speaking to him, however, and he wondered if he should acknowledge it. He thought it over and decided that perhaps he should, some positive reinforcement to help the agents adjust their treatment of him. However, the moment seemed to have passed. She had turned from him and was talking quietly with her comrades.

Oh well, no matter. He was certain to get another opportunity. They couldn’t carry on treating him like a wild beast forever, not with constant exposure to his winning personality. He yawned and stretched. Fighting always took something out of him, even if the opponents were trivial.

“What are you all talking about?”

Breaking out of his thoughts, Wrathion looked over curiously. Anduin had finished stowing his first aid kit and was walking over to the group of agents. They hurriedly stepped back from each other, acting like kids caught misbehaving. Interesting.

“Just trying to decide if we should keep moving or not.” Agent Kearnen recovered first, and her voice was smooth and reassuring. “We don’t want to stuck up here if those things come back, but we do have a distinct advantage in this spot. We might not find a safer place before nightfall.”

Anduin put a hand to his chin in thought. “What do we know about the goren?”

“They live underground and come out at night to catch misbehaving children,” Mishka said seriously. She shrugged her shoulders at everyone’s stares. “My people left this world when I was very young. I really don’t know much more than the rest of you.”

“If they’re nocturnal, they shouldn’t come after us if we leave,” Anduin said. “I think we should try to cover as much ground as possible.”

“If that’s the case, they shouldn’t have attacked us just now either,” Agent Trias said. “For all we know they are still nearby, just waiting for us to make ourselves vulnerable.”

“Oh, that’s true.” Anduin fell silent to consider that.

“This wouldn’t be such a problem if you would give my bodyguards their weapons back,” Wrathion drawled. “They could kill the lot of you unarmed if they wished to, so really you’re making yourselves less safe by making it harder for them to defend us.”

“Watch your mouth,” Agent Kearnen snapped. “You’re our prisoners, not our allies. You don’t get special treatment.”

Wrathion lifted his hands in a pacifying gesture while rolling his eyes. If these people wanted to ignore sensible advice, that was fine. He closed his eyes and lay down on the rock. Maybe if he pretended to doze off, they would speak more openly. He knew they were hiding something, their huddle earlier had been extremely suspicious.

“I think Wrathion’s right, though.” He had to suppress an urge to smile when Anduin spoke. _Wrathion’s right_ was truly the most beautiful phrase in the Common language.

Apparently Anduin’s opinion hadn’t gone over very well, because he hastily amended it. “I’m not saying you were in the wrong to take their weapons at first, but we’re in a dangerous area right now. The goren’s nest is probably close, so they’ll be a threat until we’re away from this area. Doesn’t it make sense to have as many armed fighters watching out for danger as we can? Once we’re away from here and we think it’s safer, you can take their weapons again.”

The agents withdrew to mutter about that among themselves. Wrathion cracked an eye open to look, and nearly started laughing again at the looks on their faces. He appreciated that they were in a delicate situation here. Anduin technically outranked them, so he could easily make that an order if he wanted. They obviously did not want to admit that he was right, but neither did they want to force his hand. The visible internal conflict was hilarious.

Finally, Agent Kearnen broke from the group. “One of them can have her weapons returned,” she said. “I’ll leave it to them to decide which one. The other one’s weapons will remain confiscated, as insurance that they won’t just run off on us.”

“They wouldn’t do that!” Anduin sounded genuinely offended on the behalf of Right and Left. He didn’t argue the terms, though.

Mishka retrieved the bag containing all their confiscated weapons and held it out. Wrathion could sense his bodyguards looking to him for direction. He gave no sign of being awake, and waited to see what they would do. It didn’t matter to him which of them was fully armed, they were equally dangerous at peak potential.

Left stepped into view from behind him and took her crossbow and knives from Mishka. Wrathion had no doubt that the knives would be secretly passed to Right at some point. Left’s height made her feel more comfortable aiming ranged weapons, and although she was devastatingly skilled with her daggers, she hardly ever used them. They’d made a good choice, as he had known they would.

“Now that that’s settled, let’s get moving.” Agent Trias unfolded his map and traced a path along it with his finger. “There’s a Draenei settlement around here that we should visit on our way to Shadowmoon, but I think we ought to make a stop at Zangarra first, to restock our supplies.”

“Zangarra?” That hadn’t been in the plan. Wrathion was glad to hear Anduin voicing his confusion. “Where’s that?”

“Just along the mountain a little more,” Agent Kearnen told him. “The Kirin Tor is planning to establish a stronghold there. One of their Archmages is very concerned about that warlock Grommash has got trapped under the Dark Portal.”

Wrathion’s eyes flew open and he sat up quickly, abandoning all pretenses of sleep. “Excuse me?” Were they talking about Gul’dan? He’d assumed that the chaos surrounding the Warsong clan’s rebellion had allowed him to escape. There certainly hadn’t been any signs that the Iron Horde had brought him along to the portal. Wouldn’t a powerful warlock be a bit more difficult to contain? There should have been some kind of sign of his presence.

Agent Trias glared at him. “It’s not important for you to know about that,” he said. “It’s the responsibility of the Kirin Tor.”

“We don’t know much about it either,” Mishka added. “I suppose if you’re curious, you can ask Archmage Khadgar about it when we reach Zangarra.”

He’d underestimated her. In fact, he’d underestimated all of them. Wrathion tried not to let his feelings show on his face as he stood up. Shock, anger, and an odd sort of respect were mixing inside of him. This was a masterful trap. It took great skill to make a prisoner want to accompany you to their jail cell, and Wrathion was certain that upon arrival in Zangarra the agents would turn on them. Anduin would be sent back to Stormwind, and he would be imprisoned with Left and Right. They must have somehow guessed his purpose for traveling in Draenor. Not that it would be difficult, he reflected bitterly. He’d certainly spoken enough about the Legion to various champions during his time in Pandaria.

A quick glance at Anduin told him that he didn’t suspect anything yet. He would need to be filled in on the way. Wrathion forced a smile onto his face. “Perhaps I will,” he said, easily adopting a tone of curious excitement. “I’ve heard many things about the Archmage, there are many things I’d like to ask him.”

He fell to the back off the group when they resumed their march. By the time they arrived, he would need to have an escape plan ready.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hastily slaps band-aids onto the plot* Don't examine this too closely. 
> 
> I promise that next chapter something interesting will actually happen! This is all very important for banging out the details of this AU so that I can force my plans back on track and actually have some idea of where I'm going with this.

They had left their safe perch only an hour ago, and Anduin was already having misgivings. There hadn’t been any more trouble with goren, although they had run into two or three smaller groups. Every time, the beasts had run away upon seeing them, which didn’t seem consistent with the vicious attack they had mounted earlier. It wasn’t like Anduin was familiar with them, but wasn’t that unusual?

Agent Kearnen brushed off his concerns when he voiced them. “They gave us their best shot, and now they know they can’t beat us, they’re letting us be. Why complain about it?”

She was looking at him like he was stupid. “I’m _not_ complaining,” Anduin said. “I just think it’s weird. They were so aggressive earlier, and now it’s like we can barely catch a glimpse of them. Doesn’t it seem like something’s scaring them?”

“Yeah, something’s scaring them all right.” Agent Trias grinned and raised his dagger. “It’s us. I’m with Amber. They attacked us because we got close to their nest, and now that we’re leaving they don’t want to mess with us. Cave critters are like that. You ever been to a kobold cave?”

Anduin had to admit that he hadn’t. Every time he’d been into Elwynn forest it had been in the company of numerous guards, and they were strict about following the roads. Kobold territory was no place for a young prince to explore.

“There you go then!” Agent Trias clapped him on the shoulder. “They get nasty and swarm everywhere if you’re going toward the entrance, but if you’re leaving they run like rabbits. Nothing unusual about it.”

Sensing that it wouldn’t do any good to debate the subject, Anduin dropped it. He turned his focus instead to his other worry. For about half the time they’d been walking, Wrathion had been trailing behind. Normally he was all over the place, zipping back and forth between the front and back of the line to expend extra energy. Seeing him so apparently listless was strange and more than a little scary. What if the healing spell had gone wrong somehow? What if he was hurt somewhere else and had hidden it?

Was it worth forcing a stop? Wrathion didn’t _look_ hurt. His stride was relaxed and even, it was just slow. Furthermore, Anduin could tell that they were in a bad location for repelling another ambush, if one occurred. He stopped under the guise of getting a drink of water and waited for Wrathion to catch up.

Wrathion looked at him curiously as he drew even with him. “Something wrong?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Anduin said. “You’re lagging behind. Are you feeling all right?”

“Perfectly fine, thank you.” Wrathion smiled at him. “Just lost in thought I suppose. I think you’re right about the goren, by the way.”

“You were paying attention?” That was surprising. Wrathion wasn’t lying about having been lost in thought, he still sounded distant. Anduin had the impression that he could have walked into a whole herd of goren without noticing.

“Oh, more or less.” That sounded very much like _no_. Wrathion gestured vaguely as he spoke. “I don’t think those agents know what they’re talking about, really. Can I talk to you later?”

“You’re talking to me now.” Anduin raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, but I’m not finished thinking yet. Now is no good anyway, I don’t want to be overheard.” Wrathion sent a distrustful glance at the agents.

Anduin rolled his eyes. Wrathion got like this sometimes, all mysterious and cagey, acting like he had some big secret. It was annoying. Was it really so hard to explain what he was thinking about? Anduin knew it was about what they’d heard. Wrathion was strategizing without asking Anduin for his opinions again. It was one of his worst habits. He never stopped to consider that other people might like to be part of the process, instead of having to argue about a plan that was already set in motion.

“What's the holdup back there?” Agent Kearnen shouted back at them. “Hurry it up, we need everyone to stay close.”

Anduin hurried to catch up. Wrathion still trailed behind, but at least he seemed to be making an effort not to get lost.

The next time they stopped, Wrathion beckoned him over. Anduin left his pack on the ground where he’d been sitting and went over to sit next to him. He tried to act casual about it, smiling at the agents when they gave him suspicious looks. They didn’t comment, but kept watching.

“When you get the chance,” Wrathion said quietly once he’d settled down, “I want you to ask those people for _specifics_.”

“Specifics about what?” Anduin asked. Although he thought he knew, he’d learned over time that it was best to make sure he and Wrathion were on the same page.

“Everything.” Wrathion counted off on his fingers while he spoke. “Where we’re going. What we’ll find there. Anything you can get about the Dark Portal.”

“You think they’re lying?”

“I think they don’t know as much as they claim to, and they’re making things up to keep our attention.” Wrathion looked at him seriously. “I think, and I’m surprised you don’t, that this is probably some kind of trap. I want to know how much of the bait is based on real information.”

“So you’re saying they might hurt us.” Anduin wouldn’t necessarily put it past the SI:7 to turn violent with Wrathion. He had a harder time believing that they would do so in his presence, and against his direct orders.

“They can’t hurt me.” Wrathion dismissed the idea easily. “They want to send me to prison, most likely, and deliver you back home to your father, who I’m sure is worried sick. And that would be an incredible nuisance. We’ll be leaving them very shortly, the only thing I need to decide is how far to follow along like obedient prisoners before then.”

An uneasy feeling sprang to life in Anduin’s gut, just as with every time his father was mentioned. He squashed it with a grimace and a shake of his head. “I understand, but how far have you thought this through? At least one of them is watching you all the time, and I won’t go along with any plan that ends in them getting hurt. I’ve known all these people since I was little.”

“Don’t worry, I know better than to harm any friends of yours.” Wrathion smiled innocently. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“Every day.” Anduin shook his head. Mostly, he knew, Wrathion lied to him about small things. Little lies were easy to see through, to the point where it was almost like a joke. He was sure there were one or two bigger ones mixed in there. So far it hadn’t become an issue, he hoped it never would.

“Well, I’ll do my best.” He still wasn’t sure what Wrathion wanted him to ask, or what he was expecting Anduin to learn. Finding out information from the notoriously secretive SI:7 was more of a challenge than he thought Wrathion appreciated. They humored him a little, he knew, because he was their prince. That didn’t mean they ever told him anything of value.

That in mind, it was with more than a little apprehension that he fell into step next to Agent Trias later in the afternoon and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So, how much farther are we going?” He fought hard not to cringe at how fake-cheerful he sounded. “I mean, this place we’re going to, are we close enough to get there today?”

“No.” Agent Trias looked back to assess how far they’d managed to travel that day. “Hopefully in a day or so. We didn’t pack for four extra people.”

Anduin lowered his head. He knew he was a drain on resources, but it stung to have it pointed out. At least Wrathion, Left, and Right could hunt to make up for it. He couldn’t let himself get distracted, though.

“So if there’s a whole outpost here already, what do they need you for?” The question had come to him in a flash of inspiration. Nobody could question its validity.

Agent Trias looked a little embarrassed. “We might’ve exaggerated a bit,” he said gruffly. “Our initial land surveys pinpointed the site as having strategic value for the war effort, so they dispatched some mana servants to guard the place in preparation for arrivals. There’s probably not a lot there. We’re just hoping to be able to establish communication with Azeroth.”

“And the stuff about the portal?” Anduin felt like this was probably what Wrathion was really curious about.

“All true.” Agent Trias squared his shoulders defensively. “I scouted out the Dark Portal myself on the way out here. The foundations are heavily guarded, and guards talk. It’s not hard to figure out what’s going on. There’s at least one warlock down there keeping it running, and I didn’t get the impression he chose to be there.”

“I see.” Anduin wasn’t sure if this was better or worse than learning that the entire tale had been made up. “Does anybody know?”

“They will, as soon as I get my report sent off to headquarters. All the more reason to touch base at Zangarra. I don’t like those mana servants, but they can move between worlds more easily than people can. I’m hoping I can talk them into taking my report back to Azeroth for me.”

That was going to be difficult, Anduin thought. He didn’t have a lot of experience with summoned arcane elementals, but Jaina complained about them often. Most mages didn’t even bother trying to deal with them, they were unfriendly and refused to do anything for free. Instead of voicing his thoughts, he asked “Why did you lie about it?”

“It’s not obvious?” Agent Trias rolled his eyes. “We have to drop some breadcrumbs to keep that dragon following us, since you’ve insisted that we give him an unacceptable level of freedom. And I know it’s working, since he put you up to this, didn’t he?”

He glanced back over his shoulder at Wrathion, who was staring peacefully off into space while he walked. Anduin felt a jolt of alarm. Now that he’d called the agents out, were they going to put follow through on their threats to put Wrathion in shackles, or hurt him?

“No!” He objected, a little too strongly. “No, he didn’t. I just thought something was weird, and I was curious. I’m sorry.” A sidelong glance from Agent Trias told him that he wasn’t doing a very good job of sounding convincing. He offered up his best innocent smile. “I was just checking on him earlier, because he looked tired.”

He slackened his pace and fell behind again, making a snap decision that it was better to cut his losses than try to bolster his credibility. Wrathion caught his eye and tried to subtly wave him over, Anduin shook his head slightly. It would be better not to have any more trail chats. Agent Trias had already caught on that Wrathion was curious. They would talk later, when they were less likely to be spied on.

Later was long in coming. Sunset found them in a small valley between two hills, and nobody felt safe stopping. Mishka found a stream, and they followed it uphill. Once they located a patch of high ground, it would be good to have water so conveniently nearby. The air coming off the river was cool, which helped Anduin catch his breath after a long day of walking. Unfortunately it wasn’t without a trade off. With water, they found insects. Large insects, which didn’t bite but which swarmed around heads and made keeping one’s balance horrifically tricky.

Wrathion had it easy, Anduin thought, waving away another cloud of bugs. He was breathing smoke in a thick cloud around his head, and it was scaring the bugs off. Anduin would have asked him to try driving away the swarms that plagued him as well, if he had thought that he could stand breathing in that much smoke. The SI:7 were obviously annoyed. They kept shooting him angry glares, and were pretending not to be bothered by the bugs. Wrathion just smiled in return, the cloud around his face highlighting his glowing eyes and sharp teeth.

Sometimes it was embarrassing just being around him, with his flair for the dramatic and odd sense of humor. He seemed to be enjoying the attention, even though it was entirely negative. If anything, he should be trying to act inconspicuous. Continuing to play with the agents like this would just get him placed under heavier watch. That should be the last thing he wanted if he was going to stage an escape.

It was fully dark by the time they came to the crest of a hill. There was a small pond at the top, and most importantly, the ground gave way to bedrock only a foot down. Agent Kearnen tested it by digging in several places before she declared the site satisfactory. It was hopelessly exposed, so they couldn’t have a fire, but at least they would be safe from an underground ambush.

Anduin picked a spot to collapse, already wondering how he was going to manage to talk to Wrathion that night. He could feel himself dropping off already. He had strengthened during his time on Draenor, and his leg only bothered him if he pushed it too much. Unfortunately, running for his life and climbing to escape an attack, followed by hours of fast-paced hiking up a steep hill, definitely counted as too much. The only thing keeping him awake still was the struggle to find a comfortable resting position for it. It ached in a way he hadn’t felt since his early days at the Tavern in the Mists, and that alone would be enough to scramble his thoughts, even without the encroaching haze of sleep. Finalizing their plans for leaving the SI:7 behind might have to wait.

Finally, after an eternity of uncomfortable shifting around, he found a perfect spot. His leg rested in a patch of especially soft grass, he wasn’t lying in a way that put any pressure or strain on it, and the ache was reduced to background noise. He was asleep within minutes.

* * *

 

Wrathion kept watch over the camp with one eye, pretending to sleep while he considered his next move. Time was of the essence, he thought Anduin knew that. And yet he’d somehow managed to fall asleep, as if the threat of imminent betrayal and imprisonment wasn’t hanging over their heads. Now Wrathion had the unpleasant task of figuring out how to wake him so they could speak, without drawing any attention. He couldn’t simply go over and shake Anduin awake. The SI:7, that bunch of hypocrites, would frown on any perceived disturbance to their prince even while plotting behind his back to betray his trust.

Likewise, he couldn’t subtly stir Anduin from this distance. Anduin was a heavy sleeper, and wouldn’t be likely to notice smaller disturbances. Wrathion could throw pebbles at him until his arm went dead and obtain no noticeable result. Maybe if he was lucky, Anduin would have a nightmare and wake on his own.

If he were in Azeroth, he could tell how much time had elapsed since they’d set down their camp by tracking the movement of the stars across the sky. Since arriving on Draenor he had been struggling to relearn what should have been a simple trick. All the stars were different, and he suspected that the planet’s rotation was slower. Every time he thought he was getting the hang of it, he would spot a patch of stars bearing a superficial resemblance to an Azerothian constellation, or he would realize he’d miscalculated the northernmost point in the sky, and he would get distracted and have to start again. Even with his rough estimation, he knew Anduin hadn’t moved an inch in several hours. Adolescent humans really had no self-control. He was tired too, but he wasn’t going to sleep until he had the information he needed.

He felt himself blink once, slowly, and when he opened his eyes the stars had shifted dramatically. On the horizon, the sky was starting to lighten. He startled awake immediately and disguised a curse as a coughing fit. The medic Mishka was on third watch, and she motioned for him to go back to sleep.

He shook his head. Struck by a sudden idea, he sat up and felt around on the ground near him for his water flask. It had been almost empty when they’d arrived at this location, and he hadn’t filled it yet. Coughing a few more times for effect, he stood and made his way quietly to the pond. He refilled the flask as quickly as he could without getting mud or water weeds in it. On his way back, he stopped by Mishka. She handed him a small bottle, containing the water purification potion that the SI:7 used when circumstances prevented boiling water. It tasted horrible, but anything was better than getting parasites. Wrathion added a few drops to his flask, took a drink, then closed it and walked back toward Anduin.

When he got close enough, he feigned stumbling and dropped his flask so that it landed squarely on Anduin’s stomach. He woke at once with a muffled yelp, drawing Mishka’s attention at once. Wrathion would have to find some way to discourage her from spying, but his main goal was accomplished.

“Ow! What was that for?” Anduin sat up and glared at him. While he was normally calm and patient, he did have a tendency to become irritated if woken suddenly. His confused anger was always fun to witness. Wrathion shook his head to keep himself from getting distracted and knelt down in a show of concern for the sake of his audience.

“I’m very sorry, I tripped. I hope you’re not hurt.” He made sure to keep his voice audible to Mishka, but quiet enough to avoid waking the rest of the agents.

Anduin knew at once that he was lying, of course. Disbelief and annoyance were written all over his face. Thankfully, he was still too tired to argue. “It’s all right,” he muttered. He lay back down, and fixed Wrathion with a suspicious, sleepy stare.

Wrathion lay down next to him as casually as possible. He normally chose to rest at the very edges of whatever campsite they had chosen for a particular night, so he knew it would be noted as unusual behavior. Although he felt twitchy at the diminishing of his personal space, he stretched his arms out and tried to relax. Surely it wasn’t too suspicious for a hostage to seek the company of his friend every now and then.

“I believe you had something to tell me,” he whispered as soon as he’d determined that nobody was going to come over and check what he was doing.

An exasperated sigh told him that Anduin had known that was coming. He was staring straight up at the sky, not looking at Wrathion, and every tense line of his body was screaming _you woke me up for this?_

“It really is important,” Wrathion prodded. He had the feeling that it would be hours, not days, before they had to act.

“I know.” Anduin turned over to face him, so his voice wouldn’t carry. “I don’t think I found out what you wanted.”

Was Wrathion imagining it, or did he sound worried? “That’s all right,” he said. “I would not expect you to do the work of a trained spy. What you know is fine.”

Visibly struggling to stay awake and remember, Anduin slowly related what he’d learned the previous day to Wrathion. Every now and then he would lose track of a sentence, or forget a word, and when he was finished he yawned widely and let his head drop. Wrathion had questions, but decided that he could puzzle them out on his own. Anduin wasn’t likely to have the answers, especially not now.

By the time the sun was up, he had an idea of what he wanted to do. He would follow along until they reached their destination, if only because the sight of a band of assassins attempting to summon an elemental promised to be extremely funny. On a more serious note, it would be helpful for him to have a basic knowledge of where Azerothian forces would be stationed. From there, he could improvise. A quick escape was as easy as knocking the agents on the head and running. He had told Anduin he wouldn’t directly harm them though, so he owed it to him to at least try to find a less violent solution.

Before they began moving for the day, he made sure to take Left and Right aside, individually so as not to raise suspicion, and warn them to be ready to leave at any time. He knew that they were close to their destination. He could tell by the way the agents were acting, self-assured and eager to get started.

Leaving the agents behind would be a massive relief. Playing the part of an obedient hostage was stifling, there was only so much suppression of his natural personality that he could take. His place was at the head of a group, leading them through anything they encountered. Hanging back and holding his tongue was insulting to his dignity, but it was necessary if he wanted to retain the element of surprise for when the opportunity to break free arose.

The morning was long and boring. Anduin was still too tired from having his rest interrupted to make for good conversation. All he had for entertainment was focusing in on the surrounding area and trying to decide which direction he wanted to go once they were on their own again. Should they continue on to Shadowmoon Valley? There were legitimate reasons to pay the place a visit. According to the SI:7, the Shadowmoon orcs had a large number of warlocks among them, and they were in communication with the Iron Horde. They were an obvious weak point when it came to keeping the Burning Legion at bay on Draenor.

Then again, that was exactly where they would be expected to go. Anduin would still want to make contact with the Draenei, Wrathion knew he was disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to. If he left their destination up to Anduin, they would be heading right for the valley without a second thought. It was the first place that the SI:7 would look for them.

An obvious choice would be to head downhill, back toward the interior of Talador. Their main priority, Wrathion decided, should be putting as much distance between themselves and the inevitable pursuit as possible. Doubling back to the stream and traveling with the water would help even Anduin hide his trail, as long as it didn’t slow them down too much. Once they had evaded recapture, they could decide on their next move.

They arrived at their destination shortly after midday. Agent Kearnen called a halt near a narrow valley between two larger hills. Visually, it was an unremarkable place. However, Wrathion balked at the idea of following the agents into the pass. There was a powerful source of magical energy somewhere farther down, and anywhere with only one possible exit was a bad place to get caught in a trap. Knowing the trap was there didn’t change that. He watched apprehensively as Agent Trias approached the pass.

When he was only a few feet from the entrance, a magical barrier shimmered into view. The insignia of the Kirin Tor was marked on it, and Wrathion suddenly had the strong sense that they were being watched. Agent Trias reached carefully out and put his hand on the barrier. It sparked slightly where he touched it, but otherwise did nothing. He pushed on it, and it didn’t budge.

“All right,” he said as he reached into his bag. “Let me see what I can do.”

* * *

 

Anduin watched with no small amount of interest as Agent Trias pulled out a battered notebook and started flipping through the pages. Was he going to attempt a spell? He’d never seen any of the SI:7 attempt spellwork before. Instinctively, he took a step back. Arcane magic was very dangerous, even for those who had been trained in it. Spells were volatile, and could cause a lot of damage if they backfired.

Agent Kearnen noticed his unease. “Don’t worry, your highness,” she said. “He’s just going to try a few passwords. They won’t bring the barrier down, but if we’ve attracted any attention from the elementals guarding the place it will let them know we’re allies.”

Anduin nodded, but took another step back just to be safe. Wrathion was watching him with open amusement. Evidently not sharing Anduin’s caution, he walked up to inspect the barrier while Agent Trias began reciting a series of magic words.

Nothing happened at first. Agent Trias was having trouble with the language that mages used to cast magic. He pronounced every word slowly and carefully, and in a way that clearly showed he had no idea what anything he was saying really meant. There was a whole list of potential passwords written in his notebook, and he proceeded through it methodically and without effect. When he finished the list, he looked around uncomfortably, cleared his throat, and started it over again.

This time his pronunciation was a little more confident, and when he was about halfway through the list he stopped suddenly. Anduin took a small step forward, peering at the barrier to see what had caught his attention. Suddenly, he realized that part of the barrier had thickened slightly, and there was a pair of eyes staring out at them. There was no telling how long it had been there, secretly watching them, but one of the Kirin Tor’s elementals had decided to make an appearance.

A long moment passed, as they all stared back at it in complete silence. Agent Trias eventually cleared his throat uncomfortably and waved Agent Kearnen forward, obviously wanting to pass off the role of communicating with the elemental to the team’s leader. She shook her head and indicated that he should talk to it. Anduin smiled slightly. She knew her stuff. Since Agent Trias had technically been the one to call it forward, having anyone else negotiate with it would be seen as rude.

Agent Trias drew in a deep breath and nodded respectfully to the elemental. “Good afternoon.”

It floated there, watching him, and did not say anything in return. He looked nervously back at Agent Kearnen and Mishka, who both gave him encouraging nods.

Agent Trias shakily introduced himself, and briefly identified the rest of the group. “We were hoping,” he said, “that you could take a message for us back to Azeroth.”

The elemental said nothing. Agent Trias became visibly frustrated. He shuffled his feet on the spot and started gesturing wildly, as if trying to communicate with someone who didn’t speak any Common.

“We need to get in touch with the King of Stormwind. We’ve found his missing son. We’re also in need of additional supplies. I know you can transport items between here and there.” He pulled a rolled up scroll out of his bag. “I have this report here. It’s very important that it gets back to Azeroth and that we get some more food, and maybe a portal. Are you listening?”

The elemental’s eyes narrowed, but again it offered no response. Mishka and Agent Kearnen both moved to stand next to Agent Trias, and began whispering suggestions to him.

“Maybe it’s testing us,” Mishka said. “Making sure we are who we say we are.”

“Or maybe it just wants us to pay it,” Agent Kearnen said.

“But we don’t have anything to give it,” said Agent Trias. “Unless it wants some bread or one of our maps, and we need those.”

While they began to argue with each other about how best to handle the elemental, Anduin noticed that Wrathion was slowly edging away from the group and toward another section of the barrier. If any of the agents were to look over, they would think that he was just examining the spell, but Anduin had known him long enough to tell when he was trying to deflect attention from himself. Was there a problem with the barrier? He scanned the section Wrathion was moving toward, looking for any signs of trouble.

There, he saw it. A second elemental, a smaller one, had come up to the barrier. Its eyes floated only a few feet off the ground, and it was watching Wrathion’s approach with undisguised curiosity. Arcane elementals were always more interested in individuals with magical ability. Anduin had always noticed them watching him on the occasions that he visited Dalaran with his father. It was one of the reasons he was hanging back. Their attention always felt analytical and impersonal, and it made him uncomfortable.

Wrathion didn’t seem to mind. He knelt down by the elemental and started whispering something to it. Anduin watched to see what he was going to do. The elemental shimmered while it spoke, and Anduin wished he could move closer so he could hear what they were talking about. So far the SI:7 agents hadn’t noticed what Wrathion was doing, and any attempt on his part to gain access to the interaction might call their attention to it. A minute later they seemed to come to some sort of agreement, because Wrathion nodded. He held out one hand and blew a small amount of flame into it, then held it out. The elemental seemed to absorb it, growing slightly larger and acquiring a soft glow.

It dissipated into the barrier, and a moment later reappeared next to the large elemental. The agents were all visibly startled by the appearance of a second elemental, when the first one was giving them such trouble. Agent Trias started to speak to it, but it held out one hand in a clear request for silence and his sentence trailed off into an awkward cough.

The elementals shimmered back and forth for a moment, in a form of wordless communication. Then the smaller elemental vanished again, and the larger one turned back to the group.

_“Please place your hands on the barrier.”_ Anduin wasn’t sure if he actually heard it speak, or if the voice had just manifested directly into his head. It had an airy quality to it, at odds with something so large.

“So you’ll help us?” Agent Trias asked. The elemental hadn’t shown any signs of caring about their requests, and he was understandably suspicious.

_“Your allies will be contacted, and your needs met.”_ The elemental sounded annoyed now. _“Please place your hands on the barrier.”_

The agents exchanged looks. Agent Kearnen was the first to step up. She put her right hand up to the barrier, and stared the elemental down. Mishka and Agent Trias followed her lead quickly. When Anduin approached the barrier, Wrathion caught his attention by flicking a pebble at him, one he’d apparently picked up while talking to the smaller elemental. Anduin looked at him, and he shook his head slightly. His hand was up to the barrier, but when Anduin looked closer, he saw that it was not actually touching it. Left and Right stood on either side of him, and they were not directly touching the barrier either.

Was it dangerous? Anduin wondered if he should raise an alarm. Wrathion had clearly made some kind of deal with the elementals. If they were going to electrify the barrier or something, the agents could get hurt. Wrathion had told him they wouldn’t be harmed, but what if he’d changed his mind? Anduin didn’t believe that he would do something lethal to them, he had always honored promises in the past, but there were also the elementals themselves to worry about. He trusted them less than he did Wrathion.

Agent Kearnen cleared her throat, and he realized that everyone was staring at him. “Something wrong, your highness?”

“No, I’m fine.” He took a calming breath and held his hand up, milimeters from the surface of the barrier, but not touching it.

The elemental watched him with its glowing eyes, and began to glow brightly. The barrier’s light intensified to match it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than usual. My pet rat died on Tuesday and I lost my momentum for a couple of days. I think I've got it back now, so the next one should be normal length. 
> 
> Fun tip for naming minor characters: Go to create a character of that race in the game and just hit the random names button until something comes up that doesn't look like keysmashing.

There was a flash of blinding light, and when Anduin cracked his eyes open again the elemental was gone. The barrier looked unchanged, and the three SI:7 agents were out cold on the ground. Left and Right were already rummanging through their dropped backpacks to retrieve the rest of their weapons. Anduin rushed over to Mishka, who was nearest to him, and anxiously checked her pulse. It was strong and steady. Sighing in relief, he stood back up.

“They’ll be fine.” Wrathion was leaning against the rocks near the edge of the barrier and he looked supremely unconcerned with the fate of the agents. “They’ve just been hit by a sleeping spell. Let’s go, we don’t want to be anywhere near here when it wears off.”

“We can’t just leave them like this!” Without someone to stand guard, they would be vulnerable to all of Talador’s dangers. Anduin circled them, unsure how to make the area any safer. One of Agent Kearnen’s arms was trapped awkwardly behind her back, he bent down to straighten it out.

“Yes we can,” Wrathion said. “You might not have noticed, but there’s nothing up here. Those elementals are scaring away all the wildlife. They’ll be perfectly safe, and they’ll wake up with fresh conjured food and water in their bags that they can bring along on their journey to recapture us. Let’s take advantage of our head start.” He turned and started to walk away without a backward glance.

“Wait, hang on!” Anduin rushed after him. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

Wrathion slowed by a fraction to let him catch up. “At this moment, speed is more important than direction.” He shifted into dragon form mid-sentence and flew in an impatient circle. “Since you’re concerned with our destination, I’ll let you pick. Would you like to double back to the stream and follow it to hide our tracks, or would you prefer to keep going this way and put as much distance as we can between us and them?”

That, at least, was an easy decision. “Let’s keep going,” Anduin said. Wading downstream for miles would be very slow, and carried far greater risk of injury.

Wrathion was flying away before he even finished his thought. Anduin made a face at his retreating back and followed after. One thing that he could say about the SI:7, they were far less impatient.

In some ways, hiking downhill was rougher on his leg than hiking uphill. It took less energy to keep moving, but once he fell into a pace every step was heavy and jarring. As the afternoon wore on, he got to a point where it didn’t feel like he was walking anymore, so much as falling in a slow and partially controlled way. When Wrathion called a halt, it took a long time for his body to catch on that he was supposed to be stopping, and he stumbled on for ten or fifteen feet before managing to slow the momentum.

Grumbling under his breath, he turned back around and walked over to where Wrathion was standing and watching him with amusement. “What is it now?”

“Left found something.” Wrathion pointed.

Tracks, large ones with visible claw marks, were imprinted in a bare patch of soil a short distance away. Left was crouching near them, measuring them with one of her hands. Anduin went over to get a closer look. If the tracks were left by some kind of animal, he doubted Left would have even paid attention to them. Something must be odd about them.

“Week or so old,” she informed him when he reached her. “Must have been a patch of mud here that dried up. Very shallow prints, though.” She frowned at them. “Something that size should have sunk in farther.”

“Can you tell what it is?” Anduin knew the answer right away.

“Normally with these claws I’d think raptor, but the shape’s all wrong for it.” Left shook her head and stood up. “Better stick close. The tracks are old but it doesn’t mean whatever made them left the area.”

They resumed walking at a much slower pace. Wrathion had shifted back to human form, a concession to the idea that they should stay together. Lacking the ability to spend his energy flying around the perimeter of the group, he hummed a quiet tune to himself while they walked. Anduin could tell it was stressing Left and Right. The amount of noise generated by his walking and Wrathion’s humming was impeding their ability to monitor their surroundings. He’d tried to silence his steps as much as possible, but Wrathion was showing no such consideration.

Near sundown, they found a road. Anduin insisted that they follow it, at least for a little while. He was tired of slogging through the wilderness. At least with a road they left a less obvious trail, and if they kept going long enough they might find somewhere safe to hide.

They hadn’t gone very far when Wrathion announced that the road had been used recently. He said it with the same tone of voice he would use to remark on the weather, and looked confused when the rest of them stopped and stared at him.

“I can smell them,” he said. “One group of Draenei was through here recently, and even more recently a group of something else.”

“Something else?” Left sniffed the air a little herself. “I don’t smell anything.”

“My sense of smell is better than yours, even in this form.” Wrathion shrugged, as if to say _it’s not my fault your senses are inadequate_. “It’s not a scent I’m familiar with. I don’t smell any orcs or humans, present company aside.”

Left and Right gripped their crossbows more tightly. Anduin decided to step in and try to ease some of the tension.

“Just because he doesn’t recognize it, that doesn’t mean it’s bad.” He smiled. “We haven’t seen any signs of danger, right? Maybe we’re just getting worked up about some animals. And this could be good, right? If we find those Draenei, I might be able to talk to them.”

When he didn’t get a response right away, his smile faded away. Left and Right were looking at each other, than at Wrathion, and then back at him, but nobody was speaking. They were doing that thought communication thing again, with the gemstones Wrathion made. Anduin crossed his arms, looked away, and waited impatiently for them to finish. It would be nice to be included in the conversation. After spending so much time with them, he’d hoped Left and Right would open up to him a bit more, but they still didn’t seem to trust him.

Wrathion was the one to break the silence. “With everything that’s been going on lately, Left is concerned that she may not be able to avoid conflict, should we encounter any Draenei.”

That had occurred to Anduin too. Traditionally on this world, orcs and Draenei lived near each other and tolerated each others’ presence. They were not friendly, but neither were they openly hostile to one another. Already that must have changed. The Iron Horde was openly hostile, there was no telling how much fighting they had already instigated. Anduin banished that thought from his mind. It was a worry for another time, he couldn’t let himself dwell on it. He needed to be present in the moment.

“They might be wary of orcs,” he said, “but they won’t have seen humans before. That should be enough to make them hesitate to start a fight. I can speak Draenei, so if I get the chance, I think I could keep the peace.”

Hopefully if it came down to that, he would remember the language. There hadn’t been anybody for him to practice with in Pandaria, he was sure he’d lost some of the vocabulary. Mentally, he began running through some simple words. He remembered how to offer friendship, he remembered how to ask for help. What else might he need?

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Wrathion said. “We can’t keep ahead of those agents forever. Sooner or later we will need to find a place to hide, or secure faster transportation.” He started walking again. “For now, we should keep moving. I think the party of Draenei went this way.”

It was getting very dark. Was Wrathion planning to keep moving all night? It made sense if he considered that they were likely being pursued, but Anduin didn’t like the idea of running across unfamiliar people in the dark. The dead of night was not a good time for peace talks, unless the meeting was with elves. Wrathion must be confident that they wouldn’t surprise anybody. If only the rest of them could share that belief. Right hurried ahead to clear the path in front of them, and Left fell back behind Anduin. They both kept their weapons up as the group moved forward, more slowly, along the darkened road.

* * *

 

The night went by uneventfully, which did not necessarily mean there was nothing to remark on. If they’d left the road at any point, Wrathion was sure they would have stepped right into a buzzing hive of activity. There were things lurking in the dark fields, he could sense them out there even if he could not pinpoint their exact locations. Pressing them on at a pace he knew to be too fast, he wondered why they hadn’t been attacked yet. They weren’t hiding their presence, and they weren’t a large enough group to give enemies pause.

Outwardly, he knew he appeared to be fully relaxed and unaware of any other beings hiding just out of sight. Left and Right were alert, but not as tense as they would be if they knew the extent of what was out there. No open fighting, that would be obvious to everyone. It was like one of the hunting games that the rogues at Ravenholdt used to keep their skills sharp, but with a darker intent simmering underneath it. There were at least two, possibly three, distinct groups of people in the area. They were aware of him, as he was aware of them, and each group was simultaneously hunting and attempting to avoid detection.

If the tension broke, he knew they would have only a brief moment to decide what to do. Chances of that happening, however, seemed low. This kind of situation was not one that arose quickly. Most likely, things around here had been much the same for many nights in the past, and would continue indefinitely onward unless there was some kind of interruption.

Given the choice, Wrathion would have preferred not to be the interruption. If they were lucky, they would have a chance to decide what kind of interruption they were going to be. If they weren’t lucky, well, he and Left and Right were capable fighters and they could run very fast. If necessary, he was sure he could carry Anduin for a short distance on the ground. There was no reason that he could see to feel overly worried. In a way, the anticipation was fun, although he knew better than to express that opinion out loud. None of his companions would agree with him.

Good plans, in his experience, never depended entirely on the abilities or actions of one person. Therefore, Anduin’s idea of contacting an unknown party of Draenei and hoping that he could convince them not to attack was not a good one. Unfortunately, it was the best they had. As much as he liked the idea of matching talents with whoever or whatever else was out there, picking fights carefully was one of the first lessons Wrathion had learned after hatching. When it doubt, it was better to face off with the opponent you knew the most about, and Wrathion had done his fair share of business with Draenei.

The only problem was catching up to them peacefully. They were, for the most part, also sticking to the road, and moving at a measured pace. Overtaking them would be easy, but would also give the impression of an ambush. Not a good start to opening a conversation. Wrathion briefly considered asking Left and Right to put down their weapons, but no, that wouldn’t be fair to them. After having had them taken away, they would be feeling especially attached. He could send someone up the road to act as a messenger. Maybe if he asked Left, she could find a Draenei who spoke Orcish.

_Yes, good idea Wrathion! Send an orc with a crossbow to try negotiating with a group of Draenei_. He rubbed at his eyes with one hand. Irrational thoughts, a clear sign that he was tiring himself out. Back in Pandaria, he’d never suffered any ill effects from missing a night of sleep. Simply being exposed to the elements without a break was enough to sap his reserves of energy every day, without him even noticing that it was happening. He would have to start conserving it.

Preoccupation kept him from noticing that Anduin had come up next to him until he spoke. “I’ve been thinking that maybe I should be going ahead of you,” he said. “No offense, but Right and Left and you don’t look very friendly. I could try to smooth things over for you.”

“Absolutely not.” He would fly ahead and try to make contact with potentially hostile strangers himself before he would allow Anduin to do it, never mind that he had absolutely no method with which to communicate with them. He should have put more effort into language acquisition back on Azeroth. Orcish and Common were sufficient for his dealings with the mortal races, and his Draconic was fragmented but passable. He had never felt it necessary to spend much time on learning others.

It was the wrong way to respond, as Anduin took in a deep breath to respond and Wrathion suddenly realized he was upset.

“You’re always doing this!” Anduin had enough sense not to shout, but his voice was a little too loud for comfort. “Everyone is! You said you wanted me to come along with you as a teammate, to help you, but you don’t want me to do anything!”

“There is a difference between contributing to our success and putting yourself in unnecessary danger,” Wrathion said. “Out of the four of us, you have the least taste for fighting. It’s only pragmatic to keep you out of charged situations.”

“There isn’t going to be any fighting! Why do you always act like violence is inevitable?” Anduin continued on without letting him answer that question. “I didn’t come here to follow you around and watch you do all the work. If I wanted that, I could have stayed at home.”

Being compared, even indirectly, to Varian Wrynn made Wrathion cringe. “I am not your father,” he snapped. This was unfair. He was just trying to be cautious, but the way Anduin was looking at him was making him feel defensive, as if he really had done something wrong.

“No, you’re not, so you can stop acting like him.” Anduin took two steps away down the road. “If you want to shoo me away from fighting, you have to let me do some things on my own too. I’m going to meet them.”

“It’s the middle of the night!” Wrathion objected. “And they won’t have ever seen a human before.”

“All the more reason for me to go alone.” Anduin spread his arms out. “Look at me. Do I look like a threat?”

With no weapons or armor, he certainly didn’t look like a _credible_ threat. Anduin was small for a human his age, walked with a limp, and had a naturally open demeanor. It would be hard for anyone to look at him and imagine that he was dangerous.

Wrathion frowned. “Maybe you do. Maybe you’re a powerful wizard, or even a disguised demon. For all they know, you could be deceiving them.”

“Or maybe I’m just a lost child who needs help.” Anduin smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know you don’t trust anyone, but I lived with Draenei long enough to know that they won’t attack me without good reason. Besides, I’ll be speaking to them in their language. They’ll want to know who I am.”

When he saw that Wrathion still wasn’t convinced, he shrugged and started walking away again. “Well, I’m going no matter what you say. You can come charging after me if you want, but despite what you might think, I do know what I’m doing.”

“Wait!” Wrathion hurried after him. “Take Right with you, at least. She can stay hidden and keep an eye out.”

Anduin turned angrily, and Wrathion was sure he was going to refuse. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and eyed Right suspiciously. “Only if she promises not to do anything unless I specifically call for it.”

Right nodded. “I understand.”

There was still an undercurrent of suspicion in Anduin’s expression, but he allowed her to walk up to his side. “How close are we?”

“If you keep going at a quick pace, you should be able to find them within an hour.” Reluctantly, Wrathion sat down at the side of the road. “Left and I will give you a head start, but then we will follow you. If things aren’t going well when we catch up to you, I’ll use my own judgment about whether or not to intervene.”

“No pressure,” Anduin said sarcastically. “I guess I wouldn’t expect anything else. I’ll see you in an hour.” He walked off down the road, with Right trailing behind him.

Wrathion watched them go until they were out of sight even to his night vision. Leaning back against a crumbling section of wall, he shut his eyes and started counting. Twenty minutes, that was the longest he would wait before he followed. More than enough time for Anduin to make peace, if he was as capable as he said he was.

Left sat across from him, hefted her crosssbow across her lap, and started restringing it. He listened to the familiar sounds of the machinery while she tightened the string and locked everything back into place. It was a sound he’d heard countless times since the day he’d hatched, and it was soothing in its own way.

“They’ll be fine,” she said after a few minutes. “Right can handle anything that might happen.”

The sound of her voice immediately caused Wrathion to lose count of the seconds. He opened his eyes and sighed irritably. “I know that.”

“Good.” She sounded satisfied, like she had been checking to make sure that he hadn’t lost faith in Right’s skills. “Then you know there is nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, of course.” Where was she going with this? Wrathion leaned forward to make eye contact. “I am not worried.”

He sat back again and tried to refocus on counting. How many minutes had it been? Five? Ten? Probably closer to five, unfortunately. Time always passed slowly when he had to wait.

Left cleared her throat, breaking his concentration again. “Even without Right, your boy can handle himself. The shield he created during the goren attack was impressive.”

Wrathion gave up on tracking time. “We’ve talked about this, Left. He has a name. You should use it.” Left knew he didn’t like for her to call Anduin that. She was purposely trying to rile him up. He hissed quietly, ignoring the way his heart was suddenly pounding, and trying to look unconcerned. “What’s your point? I already said I wasn’t worried.”

“I’m glad you aren’t.” Left didn’t sound convinced. “It seemed like you were.”

She inclined her head slightly, a silent acknowledgment that she had just overstepped a line as his bodyguard. Wrathion rolled his eyes and scratched at the stone ground with one claw. He was itching to get moving again, but painfully aware that if they didn’t wait for just a little bit longer they would catch up to Anduin before he reached his goal.

“If I was worried,” he said eventually, “it was only because I would like to have a hand in what happens.”

Left wisely chose not to answer him, and they sat in silence until his patience ran out and they followed after their companions.

* * *

 

If it hadn’t been for Right urgently broadcasting a mental warning at him, he would have burst in on Anduin’s negotiations without noticing. There were none of the raised voices or threats he had feared. Anduin was simply standing a little way off the path, talking in hushed tones to a very large Draenei hunter with a pet tiger. Wrathion hurriedly hid himself, not too close but not too far.

Draenei was a beautiful language. He always enjoyed hearing it spoken, even if he couldn’t understand more than a few words. He heard the word for “orc,” and felt Left’s sudden unease through their connection. Anduin must be trying to prepare the Draenei for the sight of them.

For his part, the hunter was more curious than scared. He asked question after question, although not unkindly, and Anduin had trouble keeping up. He stumbled over words sometimes, but never let himself become flustered. In fact, he looked more relaxed than Wrathion had seen him in days and days.

As they spoke, the wind changed. The hunter’s tiger lifted its head, sniffed at the air, and growled loudly. Anduin trailed off mid-sentence, then hurriedly said something else, holding up his hands in a pacifying gesture. The hunter nodded slowly, and put one hand on his tiger’s back to steady it.

“Right, you can come out now,” Anduin called. “Wrathion and Left, you too if you’re there. He promises not to hurt us.”

Promises meant nothing. More convincing was the fact that Anduin was currently standing on his own power, alive and apparently unharmed. Right pushed her way into Wrathion’s mind with a question. Did he want her to go first?

No, he sent back. He was the leader, he would introduce himself. With only a little bit of hesitation, he came out from his hiding spot and approached the Draenei.

“What have you told him?” he asked Anduin when he got near enough, keeping one eye on the hunter.

“First of all, I told him you’re human, so don’t go transforming or breathing fire or anything.” Anduin smiled at him. “I thought it would be hard to explain why I’m traveling with an orc _and_ a dragon.”

Annoying, but reasonable. Wrathion nodded. “What else?’

“I tried to explain Azeroth to him, but I’m not sure he really gets it.” Anduin shrugged. “He accepts that we’re from another world and that there are Draenei there, so that’s the important part. You, Right, and I are lost, Left is a renegade orc who is helping us, and we’re trying to hide from people who want to catch us. I tried not to give any specific details.”

“And he believes you?” That was the weakest cover story Wrathion had ever heard.

“Maybe not entirely, but he’s willing to help.” Anduin said something else to the Draenei, who nodded and turned to wave at something behind him.

A second Draenei climbed down from a tree a little distance away, with more grace and agility than someone his size had a right to possess. In response, Wrathion heard Left and Right emerging from cover behind him. There was a long moment where they all watched each other warily, and then the second Draenei extended a hand to Left, cleared his throat, and spoke in accented but understandable Orcish.

“It is good to meet you.”

Left looked uncomfortable. She stepped behind Wrathion and nudged him forward, and he found himself shaking hands with the Draenei in her stead. Fine by him. If he’d known that one of them spoke some Orcish, this whole song and dance could have been avoided.

He smiled politely. “A pleasure to meet you as well, we were concerned that you and your friend might pose a danger to us. I’m glad our fears were unfounded.” He pointedly avoided staring at the massive battle-axe slung over the Draenei’s shoulder.

He got a shake of the head and an apologetic smile in return. Apparently, this Draenei did not know more than a few basic phrases in Orcish. Wrathion smiled awkwardly and let his hand drop. Next to him, Anduin put a hand over his mouth and shook with repressed laughter.

“Shut up,” Wrathion grumbled.

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. “Guess you’re stuck relying on me.”

Calling him out on bragging would be bad form in front of potential new allies. “Fine then,” Wrathion said. “What’s your plan?”

“Oh, I don’t have one,” Anduin said. “But Zerem,” he indicated the hunter, “and his brother here are willing to bring us to their village. We can rest there while they decide what to do with us.”

“And what if they decide to lock us up? Or feed us to that tiger?” Wrathion kept his voice steady so the Draenei would not suspect what he was talking about. Anduin was just going to go along with this?

Anduin looked at him with an expression of genuine concern. “Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?”

“I’m not worried.” He hated repeating himself.

“Then what’s the problem?” Anduin asked. “You can think of all the worst-case scenarios you want, it doesn’t mean they’ll happen. They’re going to take us to their village. That’s what we wanted, remember?” He gave Wrathion a reassuring smile.

Yes, that was what they’d wanted. Wrathion had just envisioned having a little more control over that scenario. Being unable to even speak to their hosts was unnerving, who knew what they might say about him? Anduin would tell him if they said anything worrisome, certainly, but that didn’t make him feel better. Anduin’s threshold for suspicion was much higher than his, if there were subtle enough cues that not all was well, he might not even notice them. What if he slipped up and told them something they shouldn’t know?

“Wrathion? Are you okay?” A hand passed in front of his eyes. Anduin had his head tilted slightly and was examining him carefully.

“Yes, I’m fine. Stop that.” Wrathion grabbed at his arm to get it out of his face.

He allowed the Draenei to lead them away, sending instructions to Left and Right to act normal, but stay on their guard.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god this really wasn't what I was going for at all, haha. I'm so sorry about the aggressively useless chapter. Good luck Anduin in your quest to get Wrathion to talk about his problems, because apparently I can't help you with that. 
> 
> Fun fact: My original outline for this story has it split into 8 parts, which I assumed at the time would be a chapter each. I'm almost, but not quite, to part 4. Please send help.

Active war campaigns were exhausting, and in Varian’s opinion it said something about the state of the world that he was completely accustomed to them. So many frazzled people had been rushing in and out of the war room that day with various reports, assignments, and requests that he hardly even noticed when a fancy purple envelope flew into the room of its own power. He didn’t even glance up from the letter he was writing to the Dwarven council until the envelope floated down to hover over his desk and burst into flames, smoldering away and revealing a pristine sheet of paper, untouched by the fire, which floated down onto the desk in front of him.

He quickly snatched the paper off the desk before it could do anything else, grumbling under his breath. Mages. No matter how kind or generous they might be, they all had an immense weakness for flashy tricks and most of them had absolutely no consideration for an ordered workspace. He had to hold the letter up close to his face to read it, the script was neat but so small it was nearly indecipherable.

_To the High King of the Alliance, Varian Wrynn;_

_As per your request, our arcane guardians stationed on Draenor have been closely monitoring the surrounding area for any signs of the spellcasters who may or may not have taken your son. During a recent routine materialization, one of the aforementioned elementals reported that it had encountered several of your elite agents wandering lost through the area. It reported that they have been cared for and sent on their way._

_We within the Kirin Tor do not believe that any individuals you select for early reconnaissance in Draenor would find themselves in distress without reason. Additionally, the elemental confirmed when questioned that it encountered a party of seven. Our records show that you have dispatched scouts in groups of three, so unless our elemental is lying to us (not an unheard of possibility), it seems your agents may have had some success in locating Prince Anduin._

_One among the group attempted to have a note delivered to you, no doubt containing a more detailed report, but one of the arcane elementals seems to have eaten it. They are prone to such behavioral quirks. You will no doubt wish to question your agents more thoroughly when they return to you._

_We wish you good luck,_  
_The Council of Six_

With shaking hands, Varian folded up the letter and carefully tucked it into his coat pocket. Did this count? Yes, it had to count. This was solid evidence. Anduin was still alive, or at the very least he had been alive very recently. Given the pace with which mages could conduct themselves, no more than a few days must have passed since this letter departed from Dalaran. Couldn’t the Kirin Tor have spared anybody to portal themselves in at once? He could have been acting on this information the very moment it came to light.

Maps, contributed by Draenei who still remembered their old world before it fell to ruin, were spread out all over the war room. Varian searched through them for one that would confirm what he already knew. The Kirin Tor had established their watch point in Talador. It was centrally located on Draenor’s main landmass, and therefore a very likely destination for anyone unfamiliar with the world.

Which agents would be going past that part of Talador, again? He swept a number of important papers to the side impatiently. That damn map marked up with all the scouting plans had to be somewhere. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly through his teeth. There was no point in getting worked up. He would find it much more quickly if he stayed calm and focused.

When one of the desk drawers he aggressively pulled out fell to the floor, the crash brought Genn into the room at an impressive clip.

“Everything all right in here, my king?” Genn took a moment to assess the state of the room. “I heard noises.”

Instead of spending valuable time explaining, Varian opted to simply dig out the letter from Dalaran and thrust it into Genn’s hand as he continued to dismantle the room. “When you’re done reading that, help me find the map with all the SI:7 assignments on it.”

“Ah, I don’t need to help you look for that.” Genn’s brow furrowed as he read the letter. “I know where it is. Tess has it. I gave it to her yesterday to help plan the assault.”

“You should have told me.” Varian was forever grateful to the Gilneans for their steadfast loyalty to the causes of Stormwind, but that didn’t mean it was okay for Genn to take things from the war room without checking in with him first.

“I did tell you.” Genn clapped him on the shoulder. “You just forgot.”

Forgot? He’d forgotten something that important? _Maybe I’m getting old_ , Varian lamented. On the other hand, he reminded himself, it wasn’t like he’d _known_ it was going to be important. SI:7 recon assignments were generally things that he worked with Shaw on and then didn’t think about until the scouts returned. They were all very good at their jobs, and were much less likely to need his attention than the regular rank and file of the army.

Following Genn through the keep helped lift his spirits. The place was buzzing with activity as the main force of Stormwind’s army prepared to mobilize. It was an ever-present reminder that their full assault on the portal approached. Varian grinned at the thought. Soon he could take his place back on the front lines, where he felt a king should be. Returning to the city to plan for the attack had been a concession to better judgement, he couldn’t afford to get injured or worse before the war had truly begun. Everything would be easier once he was on Draenor and could lead his armies in the moment, rather than relying on messengers and constant, sometimes conflicting reports from the front.

Genn and Tess occupied rooms in the castle’s East wing, not a long walk from the war room. When they arrived, they found Tess sitting in the common area reading a book. She appeared relaxed at first, but on closer inspection the book was a work Velen had sent over, one of the few texts to have survived the Exodar’s crash. It was a bestiary of Draenor’s wildlife, and Tess was taking notes. Varian smiled at the sight. Everyone, in their own way, was making sure to be as ready as possible for the upcoming campaign.

“Good afternoon Father, Varian.” Tess finished the sentence she was writing and set the book aside, taking care to mark her place first.

“Sorry to bother you.” Varian nodded at her. He hardly ever had the time or occasion to speak with Tess, and always took great pains to make sure she felt welcome in the castle.

“Varian needs a look at that map I gave you earlier,” Genn said. “There’s been some word about one of his recon teams.”

“It’s just there. I hope everyone’s okay.” Tess pointed out the map on top of a precarious pile of books resting on a table along the wall.

“Yes, I hope so too.” Varian hurried across the room to grab the map. He thought it best not to mention anything about Anduin. Before migrating to Pandaria more or less permanently, Anduin had spent a lot of time with Tess and Lorna. He didn’t wish to get their hopes up until he had a more solid idea of what the situation might be.

He consulted the map on the way back to the war room. That far East in Talador, it could only be the red team, unless one of the other teams had gotten lost. Good, they were some of the best agents in the SI:7. A nice mix of personalities too. Best case scenario, they would return to Stormwind with Anduin in tow within the week. Worst case scenario… Anduin had always been good at finding those. Even thinking about it felt like casting some kind of jinx.

Officially, operations were still running under the assumption that Anduin had been kidnapped. Unofficially, Varian was starting to put more and more stake in the idea that he had run away. Kidnappings were always for some purpose, after all, and the lack of any ransom notes or demands from a kidnapper undermined the credibility of that option. Anduin would be a high-profile prisoner. No kidnapper in their right mind would kill him, or keep him isolated, when they could potentially benefit from dangling him in front of the army of the Alliance like a carrot on a string.

It certainly would complicate the process of getting him back. A kidnapper could be dealt with, and if Anduin was being held against his will Varian had no doubt that his agents would be bringing him back unharmed, preferably with the culprit’s head to show for it. If, as was seeming more and more likely, Anduin was staying away of his own free will, any rescue team would find themselves dealing with an unexpectedly skilled adversary. Anduin likely wouldn’t allow himself to be brought home unless Varian could speak to him directly, and without any way to do that his hands would be tied.

With any luck, then, he would see the best case scenario. Either way, the Alliance invasion plans would need to be revised. If Anduin was in Eastern Talador, then he would have to do his best to redirect troops to avoid skirmishes in that area. It was shaping up to be another long night of work.

* * *

 

Aruuna appeared at first to be as peaceful as any Draenei settlement, but soon after they arrived Anduin began to notice some key differences. Everyone they passed on the street was carrying a weapon of some kind, even considering the time of night that was unusual. He made a mental note to ask what was wrong later, once they were away from the curious stares of the village’s citizens.

He was less worried about that than he was about Wrathion. Since they’d arrived, Wrathion had been following him so closely that they’d almost tripped over each others’ feet on multiple occasions, repeatedly demanding to know where they were being taken. The answer was the same each time, they were being taken somewhere they could rest, but that answer was apparently not good enough.

“I think he’s going to catch fire in a moment,” Anduin said to Zerem. There was humor in his voice, disguising the statement as a joke when in reality it was a very present concern. “Can’t you at least give me some idea of where we’re going? He’s convinced you’re leading us to the gallows.”

Zerem laughed softly for a moment, quieting himself before it could draw any more attention. “The usual protocol for travelers is to see them to an inn. Unfortunately, you have little chance of finding a peaceful rest in a public establishment. We are bringing you to the home of someone we know. With any luck she will agree to help you, and to keep gawkers at bay.”

That was good enough for Anduin, although he didn’t quite like the idea of imposing on a stranger’s home. It was not good enough for Wrathion. Only repeated assurances that creating _more_ witnesses by leading them through an occupied town would be counterproductive to a backstabbing kept him following along without incident. When they arrived at their destination, the first thing he was going to do was make sure Wrathion got some sleep. Sleep, food, and something to think about other than all the disasters he could see looming. That kind of mindset just wasn’t healthy.

There wasn’t much time for him to think about that, though, because it was a small town they were traveling through. It was only a few minutes before they stopped outside a nice looking house, and Zerem knocked loudly on the door before Anduin could stop him.

After a brief period of silence, during which Anduin considered suggesting that really, they would be fine at the inn for one night, the door opened. An older Draenei stepped out onto the porch, took in the group at a glance, and began berating Zerem and his brother. Anduin’s fluency had waned since his studies in the Exodar so he couldn’t quite follow the rapid lecture, but he caught something about visiting at convenient times and burdening one’s family. He found that it was hitting a little close to home, so he stopped listening and stood uncomfortably a short distance away, hoping that they would be finished soon.

Thankfully, the scolding was apparently routine, and ended with smiles and laughter rather than anger. Zerem waved Anduin over to introduce him. “My aunt,” he said with a wide grin. “She isn’t happy with us but she has enough space for you to stay for a few days.”

Anduin started to thank her, to offer to help with cooking or cleaning or anything to make up for the intrusion, but she cut him off. “My nephews are always leaving their problems at my door, but usually not so literally.” he winked at him, and he immediately felt more at ease. “My name is Meren, and you’re all welcome to sleep here for now. Come on inside and get some rest before the sun rises. I’m told you’ve been out all night.”

“It’s very nice to meet you.” Anduin reached out to shake her hand. “I’m Anduin, and this is…” he stopped. Wrathion was making throat-cutting gestures at him. “Um, you’ll have to forgive him. I don’t think he wants me to finish introductions.” He glared back. Being cautious was one thing, active sabotage of polite conversation was another. “We’ve been traveling for a while, and he’s a little nervous.” Not wanting to cause any problems by calling Wrathion out on being rude, he took what satisfaction he could from the knowledge that if Wrathion had understood what he’d said, he would have been insulted.

“Given the times, I don’t blame him for wanting to be careful.” Meren smiled kindly at Wrathion, but Anduin could tell that it was a little bit forced. “I’ve already told my nephews off for leading an orc through the village, they’ll have to do a lot of talking to convince the neighbors that this isn’t the start of an invasion. And then there’s all that ruckus to the South sending ripples up here as well.” She shook her head. “All that’s something to worry about later. For now, let’s get you all set up. It will be crowded, but the two of you should fit in my son’s room, and your friends can take my daughter’s. They won’t be home for a while yet, they’re visiting their father in another town and if they have any sense they won’t be traveling until things have settled down.”

“All right, thank you.” Anduin still wasn’t comfortable intruding in her house like this, so he did his best to be as unobtrusive as possible in following her to their alloted space. In the morning, he decided, he would wake up early and help her with breakfast. It was the least he could do, and it might give him a chance to talk her without Wrathion hovering over his shoulder the entire time, limiting what he could and couldn’t say.

Wrathion, for his part, was visibly unhappy with the notion that he would be occupying a separate room from his bodyguards, despite the fact that he had never had any issues with it at the Tavern in the Mists. Whatever internal reserve of calm he was drawing on to keep from throwing a fit about it, Anduin was immensely grateful for. Instead, he studied the layout of the house carefully while they walked. The room was on the second floor, which Anduin knew would appeal to him. It provided a layer of defense from any threats, real or imagined, that might be lurking outside. The walls were thick, the doors sturdy, and the windows all had heavy curtains. It was as secure as could reasonably be expected, and Anduin hoped that would ease Wrathion’s nerves at least a little bit.

He said a very polite goodnight to Meren, smiled reassuringly at Left and Right as they reluctantly retreated to their room across the hall, and shut the door. Wrathion stayed where he was, standing stiffly near the door. Deciding that the best way to snap him out of it was some good old-fashioned antagonism, Anduin yawned and crossed the room to collapse facedown on the bed, without even stopping to take off his backpack first. “I call dibs,” he said into the pillow.

“What?” That certainly got Wrathion’s attention. “You’re not really planning to _sleep_ tonight, are you?”

“Yes, and so should you.” Reluctantly, Anduin sat up and took his pack off, evaluating Wrathion’s state with renewed concern. He’d only meant to tease Wrathion, get his mind off searching for threats, not upset him more. “I think you’ll feel better if you do.”

“I feel fine, thank you.” Wrathion crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall, carefully choosing a place where he had a clear view of both the window and the door.

Anduin sighed. It was much too late to argue. “Don’t you at least want to lie down?” After trekking through the wilderness for so long, it was hard to imagine anybody wanting to turn down the chance to sleep in a real bed. He couldn’t remember ever having been more comfortable in his life, even with dirt all through his hair and clothes and healing bruises all over his body.

Wrathion looked at him oddly. “No, I don’t. And even if I did, I seem to remember somebody calling dibs.”

Rolling his eyes, Anduin stood, and winced as every one of his muscles shouted in protest of the movement. He ignored it and fixed Wrathion with a firm stare. “Come here.”

“Why should I?” Despite the complaint, Wrathion crossed the room to stand next to him.

He would probably be mad about this, Anduin decided. Bracing himself to fend off anything from a punch to a fireball, he grabbed Wrathion by the arm and pushed him over. He landed with a thump on the mattress, and his shout of protest was muffled by a pillow.

“Now _relax_.” When it appeared that Wrathion was too offended even to retaliate, Anduin sat down on the edge of the bed to block him from moving. “Just watching you is making me anxious.”

“Oh, forgive me.” Wrathion was still speaking into the pillow, but the sarcasm was loud and clear. “I would hate to be an inconvenience to you, your highness.”

Anduin slowly lay down, taking great care to give Wrathion space and watching him closely for any signs of additional discomfort. Over the past few days Wrathion had been wound so tightly that the slightest thing caused his eyes to go wild and his defensive reflexes to kick in. Even now, he was breathing shallowly with his face turned toward the wall and Anduin knew he was only pretending to rest. There didn’t seem to be anything he could do to help. The things that helped him feel better when he was upset or nervous might just make Wrathion feel worse.

Searching for the right thing to say was a daunting task. If he’d done the smart thing and waited until morning, when he would hopefully be rested and operating a full capacity, Anduin might have been able to come up with something productive. Instead, what he said was “You’re not an inconvenience.”

Not only was that unrelated to the problem, it was also an outright lie. Wrathion was one of the most inconvenient people he had ever met in his life.

“I know you can do better than that, Prince Anduin.” The use of his name told Anduin that he was on safer ground than he’d thought. Wrathion wasn’t angry. He didn’t really sound like anything, really. Anduin had heard more emotion from court scribes reading back the transcripts of a meeting. That in itself was strange, Wrathion normally spoke like he was acting out a scene on stage. On the other hand, Anduin decided that anything was better than continued paranoia.

Could he? Probably not, at least not at the moment. He was exhausted, and Wrathion was not an easy person to get through to. Anduin decided to drop it for the time being. He wasn’t in any state to be untangling the mess Wrathion had made of his own head.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” He pulled a pillow over his head to block out the lights in the room, it took less energy than getting up to extinguish them.

Sleep was slow in coming. He’d assumed that he would be out as soon as he stopped his efforts to remain conscious. Suddenly being warm and comfortable after weeks of sleeping outside had the opposite effect he would have expected, and instead of dropping off at once it happened in stages. He spent much of the night in a half-awake state, pulled up from unconsciousness by the slightest disturbance. Wrathion, he was aware, got up several times. First to finally put the lights out, and then a few more times for reasons that Anduin could not discern. He returned every time, climbing back up from the foot of the bed so as not to invade Anduin’s space, and never seemed to realize that Anduin was conscious.

Eventually Anduin must have gotten to sleep, because when he woke up for the last time there was light coming in from behind the curtain and he could hear Wrathion pacing around the room, no doubt waiting for him to wake.

* * *

 

Despite his restless sleep, there was no denying the benefits of a warm bath. When he finally went downstairs, Anduin was feeling refreshed and energetic. Wrathion had ignored his glowing recommendation of the bathtub and gone into the other bedroom to talk with Left and Right as soon as he’d been able to determine that they were awake. Maybe they would have more success at convincing him that it would be all right to let down his guard a little bit. As far as Anduin was aware, neither of them had any specific concerns about their host.

He found Meren in the kitchen, watering some houseplants and pausing every now and then to stir something in a large pot on the stove. She must have heard him coming downstairs, because she wished him good morning without turning around.

It was wonderful to be in a house again. Anduin smiled and closed his eyes for a minute to take in all the smells and sounds of a morning indoors. “Can I help with anything?”

“I don’t need help, breakfast is almost finished.” Meren smiled back at him. “Instead, how about you have a seat at the table and tell me how you came to be wandering in the wilds with such an interesting group?”

There it was. Anduin had actually been looking forward to being questioned, talking things through always helped him think. At the moment it felt like there was nothing for them to do but hide. he welcomed an unfamiliar person’s perspective. Unfortunately, while it was a simple question, answering it was complicated. It was a long story, and while he didn’t agree with Wrathion that they should keep everything from Meren, there were certainly details that it would be best for him to be cautious about sharing.

He did his best to explain. How the orcs had come to Azeroth, the Alliance and the Horde, there were a lot of bigger stories that played into this one. Then there was the fact that technically he was partially responsible for the formation of the Iron Horde, one of those little details it was better to leave out. Instead, he just told her that Garrosh had escaped and they had followed him. At some point while he was talking, she set down a bowl of porridge in front of him, which he barely even registered until he was finally finished.

Meren allowed him a few minutes to eat. Porridge had never been his favorite food, but he was so sick of trail rations that it tasted better to him than anything they served in Stormwind Keep. The pause also gave him time to review exactly what he’d said. He hoped he hadn’t left anything out, going back to clarify things might just create confusion.

“So the four of you,” Meren started. “You came here alone?”

Not exactly, but he had already told her that Garrosh had brought in supporters from Azeroth. It would serve no purpose to tell her that he’d left Azeroth by the same means. Instead, he thought of his father and the SI:7 team they’d escaped from. “Not for long. The Iron Horde is trying to invade Azeroth, but they’re going to get pushed back. They’ll have both factions angry at them.”

“I’m sure they’ll find many willing to help them.” Meren looked troubled. “You make it all sound so complicated. I was hoping they would wear themselves out and begin turning on each other soon. In the past, that’s been the usual end of large orc armies.”

“I don’t think we’ll be that lucky.” Anduin knew that orcs, as a whole, had changed since arriving on Azeroth. They were more used to larger armies and prolonged campaigns.

“Well, then it’s good that we’ll have help,” Meren said. “And I’m sure you’ll be glad when your allies arrive.”

“Actually, if anyone else comes, I think it’s better if they didn’t know I was here.” Anduin shifted in his chair. “My father, um…” He trailed off. This wasn’t a subject he was eager to discuss. Up to this point, he hadn’t given any indication of who his father was. “He… he didn’t want me to go. He’ll probably send someone to look for me.”

The look Meren was sending him now was very stern. “Your father must be very worried about you. I hope you have a good reason for worrying him.”

“I hope so too,” Anduin sighed. He looked back at the stairs, wondering if Wrathion was going to come down. “My friend was set on coming, and I couldn’t just sit back and watch him leave. He’s too reckless, sometimes.”

Not that she would know that. Wrathion’s ego and enthusiasm had all but disappeared over the last day or two. To an outside observer, he would have almost seemed shy. The idea was laughable, or at least it would have been if his behavior hadn’t been so alarming.

“I hope he is feeling better this morning,” Meren said politely. “I remember he looked very tired.”

Anduin smiled gratefully at her. Her bad first impression of Wrathion clearly was not going to stop her from trying to be kind to him. “Unfortunately I don’t think he slept at all. Would it be all right if I brought food up for him, and the others as well? If we wait for them to come down I’m afraid we might be waiting for a long time.”

Meren agreed, and two minutes later Anduin was carefully climbing the stairs with three bowls and some utensils balanced precariously in his arms. He’d declined an offer of help out of some vague notion that he had interrupted her day enough, and also because he felt that it might be best if she saw Wrathion as little as possible until he was feeling more sociable. Keeping his balance on a staircase was an undertaking even when he had full use of his hands, but somehow he managed to reach the second floor without dropping anything and spilling breakfast everywhere.

He tapped on the door to Left and Right’s room with his foot to announce his presence. “Good morning, everyone. I have food, can I come in?”

A brief pause later, the door opened a crack and Right stuck her head out. She looked up and down the hall, as if to check that he was alone. Anduin held up the bowls of food. His arms were getting tired, if she didn’t let him in soon he was going to drop them on the floor.

Thankfully, after another check she seemed satisfied and opened the door to permit him entry. He quickly went in and set the bowls down, managing only to spill a little, on the top of a chest of drawers pressed up against the far wall. “You don’t have to act like soldiers in a secret hideaway,” he said. “I’ve been wandering around the house all morning, it’s perfectly safe.”

Wrathion hummed, sounding unconvinced, and stared dubiously at the bowls of food. He was sitting crosslegged on the bed, with their map spread out before him.

“Oh no you don’t.” Anduin pulled the map away and started folding it up. “I’m done rushing around from place to place without any solid idea of where we’re going or what to do when we get there.” He finished folding the map and stuck it in his pants pocket. “You can have that back when you’ve rested.”

“I’ve told you, I’m fine.” Wrathion did seem a little more like his usual self, he’d fixed his clothes so that everything was in place again and he wasn’t acting as tense. Maybe he had managed to sleep a little after all, but whatever he’d done definitely wasn’t enough. If he was actually feeling fine, he wouldn’t be holed up in this room doing everything except shoving furniture in front of the door to keep people out.

Anduin shrugged. “A day or two without worrying over your plans won’t hurt you. Do you want your breakfast or not? I had a whole bowl of it earlier so I can tell you it’s not poisoned, or anything you might be thinking.”

Wrathion frowned at him. “I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort. I have no need to worry about poisons.” He held his hands out expectantly, and Left brought his food over to him. “Have you found out anything useful from that Draenei?”

“I think this counts as _worrying over your plans_.” Anduin said in a teasing voice, sitting down on the foot of the bed. “I promise you’ll think better later if you take a break.”

“You’re starting to repeat yourself,” Wrathion pointed out. “Very well then Prince Anduin, if it will ease your mind I will do as you ask.” He lifted his bowl and took and exaggerated gulp of porridge. “Here I am, doing nothing of importance and not working on a plan to help the forces of Azeroth with their war effort. Are you satisfied?”

“For now.” Anduin lay back, staring at the ceiling and trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. If Wrathion was going to try to bait him into an argument, he wasn’t going to rise to it. Arguing was not his idea of a relaxing activity. “Keep it up.”

Sensing that Wrathion was still annoyed with him, he got up to leave. They would talk more later, and Wrathion had reminded him that there were things he still wanted to ask Meren.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I have trouble writing a scene I switch to Wrathion's point of view and it instantly gets easier. I don't know why. It should make it harder, since I'm trying to write him as having some mood swings and that's kind of challenging to keep up. I also apologize for my inability to write emotional stuff.
> 
> Anyway, hey, ten chapters! That's a lot! My biggest fear at this point is writing something that contradicts something I said earlier, because to be honest I am making most of this up as I go and I know that if I look back at earlier chapters I'll get embarrassed by them and lose steam.

It was a long morning. Meren had lots of visitors, and each time a knock sounded on the door Anduin would have to get up from his comfortable seat and go into another room to hide. As he’d expected, the sight of them walking through town had raised more than a few eyebrows, and everyone who stopped by was hoping to get a glimpse of Meren’s unusual visitors. She had little patience for gawkers, and told each person who came calling that the strangers had packed up and left shortly before dawn. Most were satisfied with that.

Others were more suspicious, and demanded details. Where had the strangers gone? Had they taken anything with them? It was difficult for Meren to get them to leave, sometimes, and once or twice Anduin was nearly discovered by villagers who pushed their way inside under the pretense of making sure nothing dangerous had been left behind. It might have been wiser to stay upstairs, at least until interest died down. However, despite the interruptions, Anduin was really enjoying talking to Meren. Hearing about Draenor in the words of an inhabitant was so fascinating that he almost forgot about his questions.

Eventually, after yet another group of neighbors had been gently herded away, he asked about the strange atmosphere he’d noticed during their arrival. Maybe the custom here was different than in the Exodar, but in his eyes it was unusual to see Draenei looking so defensive. Hostile, almost. He’d gotten the impression that if they had not been accompanied by familiar faces, they would have been greeted with drawn weapons rather than inquisitive villagers. The obvious explanation was that the Iron Horde had them on edge, but then there had been Meren’s mention of something happening in the South as well. Was there conflict among the Draenei of this world?

“You’re right,” Meren answered. “Things are not normally like this. That orc army did shake everyone up a bit while they were marching. They’re not the real concern, though. Over the last few months we’ve had an increasing number of arakkoa sightings.”

“Arakkoa?” Anduin had heard of arakkoa, but didn’t know very much about them. Soldiers sent to Outland occasionally brought back tales of small, birdlike creatures. They were classified as hostile, but not considered a huge threat.

Meren nodded. “Bird people. They’re very territorial, but mostly keep to their home in the mountains to the South.” She pointed out the window, and Anduin could just see the tops of the peaks off in the distance. “Now, something’s gone wrong over there. We figure they’ve had some kind of civil war. Groups of odd flightless ones keep coming up here, and now we’ve been seeing regular ones too. They haven’t done anything yet, but since they’re taller than our biggest warriors and known to be aggressive, you can see why everyone is worried.”

“Yes, I think I can.” The arakkoa here sounded very different from the ones living in Outland. Thinking back, Anduin realized that they must have been very close to a band of them the previous night, he could think of nothing else that would leave taloned footprints like the ones they’d found. “Why were your nephews out on their own, then?”

“I warned them against it.” Meren frowned. “They think that the smaller arakkoa are being chased out, and that if they could find one they could try to communicate with it. They’ve been out looking every night for a week.”

“Isn’t that a good idea, though?” It certainly sounded like one to him.

Meren shook her head. “Not at all,” she said vehemently. “Arakkoa are a proud race, and they believe all other peoples to be beneath them. Some of them even take contact from other races as an insult. It’s a foolish and dangerous idea.”

“Oh.” Anduin sighed and looked down at his hands. Sometimes it felt like the older he got, the more firmly the people he met tried to discourage his dreams of peace. The other side was always too violent, too proud, or too corrupt to listen. It was the same story everywhere, but very few people seemed willing or able to break away from their preconceived notions about their enemies. He’d fallen victim to it in the past too.

He broke out of his thoughts when he heard the door open again. Was someone here? He hadn’t heard anyone knocking, and he didn’t have time to get up and hide.

Meren turned and laughed at the startled look on his face. “No need to worry,” she said. “I’m just going out. If my neighbors can see me going about my life as normal, they perhaps will stop worrying that I’ve been murdered in my sleep by shady travelers. Stay out of sight, and try to keep your friends out of trouble.”

She waved at him, stepped out onto the porch, and locked the door behind her. Anduin was left suddenly alone, with very little idea of what to do with himself. Keep everyone out of trouble? That didn’t seem like it would be very difficult. He hadn’t heard a single thing from upstairs the entire morning, and it was looking like Wrathion planned to hide himself away up there for the duration of their stay in Aruuna. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check on him. Back in Pandaria, extended periods of silence had usually signaled that Wrathion was up to something.

Anduin pushed himself up from his chair and slowly climbed the stairs, listening carefully in case Wrathion was having one of his secret conferences with Left and Right. Often at those times they communicated through their gems, but if they were in the same place and did not think they were being listened to they sometimes returned to speaking normally. This time there was nothing to hear, because Wrathion had returned to the room he was sharing with Anduin and had set Left and Right to guarding the hallway. They were facing him when he reached the top of the stairs, disgust with his attempt at stealth evident on both their faces.

It wasn’t like he could help the slight thump to his step. Instead of acknowledging the insult, he gestured to the door and asked “Is it okay for me to go in?” He shouldn’t have to contend with armed guards to get in, all his things were in that room too. In fact, armed guards were on of the things he’d come to Draenor to get away from. So he had very little patience to spare when they just looked at each other rather than answering him. “All right, well, thanks,” he said sarcastically. Reaching out to push the door open, he found it locked.

“His Majesty asked not to be disturbed,” said Right, speaking up at last.

“Well, that’s not fair of him,” Anduin said. “He can’t just lock me out, I have as much right to be in there as he does.” He knocked a few times, loudly. “Wrathion? I know you’re awake in there, open up!”

Left and Right exchanged glances, then Right spoke again. “It would be best if you came back later, unless you are here for something very important.”

He wasn’t, but now it was a matter of principle. Wrathion could act the leader if he wanted, but only so long as he didn’t overstep any boundaries. There was no way Anduin was letting himself get bossed around. He opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by the sound of wings from inside the room, and then the gentle click of the latch unlocking.

“Let’s all avoid infighting.” Wrathion’s voice was quiet through the door. “I have enough to deal with. Anduin can come in.”

By the time he got the door open, Wrathion was in the air again. He flapped away and landed with a thump on the bed, where he immediately resumed human form. His arms were crossed under his head, and he stared up at the ceiling without acknowledging Anduin’s presence in the room.

Anduin cast about for some legitimate reason to have thrown a fit about getting in, and decided that now was as good a time as any to see about getting some of the clothes he’d packed clean. At this point in their journey he didn’t have a single thing that wasn’t covered with dirt, grass stains, or worse.

He dug around in his pack, pulling clothes out and sorting them, and had almost finished when Wrathion spoke up.

“Who was at the door?” He was still looking up at the ceiling and was trying very hard to sound disinterested.

“A lot of people,” Anduin said. “Don’t worry, nobody saw me.”

Wrathion rolled onto his side, fixing him with a subdued stare. “Are you certain of that?”

As if he could not be. “I went into the other room every time. Don’t worry.” Feeling the need to lighten the mood somehow, Anduin rolled up a sock and threw it at Wrathion, who caught it on reflex and then dropped it on the ground with an offended hiss.

“What was that for?” He looked genuinely upset, which made Anduin stop in his tracks on the way over to retrieve his sock.

“Nothing,” he said carefully. “I was only teasing. I’m sorry.” He held his hands up in a pacifying gesture and resumed gathering up his dirty clothes in a small bundle. “I’m going to go wash these. When I come back, do you want to play a game?” He gestured with his free arm at a number of small boxes stacked haphazardly in the room’s small closet. “I don’t recognize any of these, but I’m sure we can work out how they’re supposed to be played. And we can talk while we play, like old times.”

Wrathion’s eyes tracked the movement and he looked at the pile of games. For a moment Anduin thought he saw a flicker of interest. That was good enough for him. If he pressed Wrathion, he knew from experience that Wrathion was most likely to push back. He readjusted his bundle of clothes and left the room as quickly and quietly as he could manage. He’d made a pretty good offer. Now all that remained was for him to give Wrathion some time to think about it.

He took his time with the washing. Finding where Meren kept all her cleaning supplies took up some time, and so did getting everything set up so he wouldn’t make a mess. He only had a little experience cleaning things for himself, and wasn’t certain he had the hang of it. Doing things by hand brought a certain amount of satisfaction though, even if he didn’t do it perfectly, and he much preferred doing this sort of work himself rather than imposing on Meren.

He was finishing up rinsing, and solidifying in his head what he wanted to say to Wrathion, when a soft step on the staircase made him turn around. Wrathion was standing on the second step from the top, one foot raised, looking surprised at himself for even considering going the rest of the way down. Anduin didn’t say anything, but his surprised smile must have made Wrathion uncomfortable, because he suddenly got defensive.

“You were taking too long,” he explained, hanging onto the stair railing so hard with one hand that Anduin worried he was going to leave claw marks. “I thought you might have fallen into the basin and drowned.” Anduin was glad to hear the joking tone in his voice, even though his expression didn’t quite match it.

Anduin laughed. “Wouldn’t that make for an undignified end to this trip?” He pulled the last shirt out of the washbasin and wrung it out as well as he could. “If you’re coming down, I’d appreciate some help. I don’t think I can carry this to the back door to dump it out by myself, and having you dry my clothes might be easier than finding a spot to hang them up.”

* * *

 

While Anduin’s spoken Draenei was fluent enough to serve him well in most contexts, reading the alphabet was still apparently somewhat of a challenge for him. Since they were back inside their room, with the door locked and guarded, Wrathion let himself take a moment to watch with amusement as Anduin struggled with the instruction pamphlet that had been packaged with the game they’d picked out. He kept placing pieces, looking at the faded text, frowning, and moving them again. It was better entertainment than the game itself was likely to be, they would probably have to guess at some of the rules and Wrathion suspected that more than a few pieces were missing.

“All right… I think I’ve really got it this time.” Anduin moved the pieces around again. “You have all these green pieces here, and I have all these brown ones, and I think we’re supposed to try and get them all to the middle somehow.” He consulted the instructions again. “And there’s supposed to be a deck of cards that comes into it, but it wasn’t in the box so we might have to skip that part.”

“Ah yes,” said Wrathion, picking up a game piece and looking closely at it in a show of interest. “It all makes sense. I’m sure this will be lots of fun.” It came out more aggressive than he’d intended, as had nearly everything he’d said recently, and the result was instantaneous. Anduin’s face fell. He looked away from Wrathion, feigning extreme focus on folding the game instructions back up.

“Fine,” he said. “Then we won’t play.” He didn’t sound angry, just sad.

It would have been easier if he was angry. Wrathion could deal with anger. He knew how to turn it to good use. How to channel it into action, and how to soothe it afterward. Sorrow was a different beast, it reacted in unexpected ways. He preferred to stay away from something so unpredictable. In the past, his dealings with humans and other inhabitants of Azeroth had been simple to direct, almost like a game themselves. Emotions were a tool he could use to obtain the desired results. Compliments and rewards kept his champions coming back, most adventurers had a competitive streak that could be exploited to motivate them, and even something as simple as boredom could be turned to a cause if it was the only thing he had to work with.

All that experience amounted to nothing when Anduin was concerned. In addition, he was finding more and more that he didn’t want it to. Anduin considered him a friend, perhaps he was the only person to do so. The least Wrathion could do was attempt to live up to the expectations that carried. Anduin was trying, in an uncomfortably straightforward way, to put him in a better mood. He wanted to bring their past argument back up, but was trying to do so in a way that wouldn’t actually revive it. It was a negotiation tactic Wrathion was familiar with, but seldom employed. He vastly preferred to leave unpleasantness in the past, where it belonged.

Anduin had finished folding the paper up and was now sitting opposite him, not looking in his direction. He was also very pointedly not leaving, so it was clear to Wrathion that something was expected of him. An apology, maybe? Some sort of peace offering, to show he was willing to meet Anduin halfway in the efforts to clear the air? Well, he wasn’t going to apologize and he still didn’t want to talk. He did want to do something though, to make sure that the final straw which made Anduin sick of him wasn’t something as stupid as a sarcastic comment about a children’s game.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” was what he settled on saying. It was the truth, it was to the point, and it didn’t invite more discussion than necessary.

“I know you didn’t.” Anduin spoke more to the tabletop than to him. “You’ve been really weird lately, and I know something’s wrong. I just wanted to help.”

“And I appreciate that,” Wrathion assured him. That was true, even if Anduin’s persistence was getting under his skin. “However, I do not need help. I am perfectly capable of handling things on my own.”

“Well, maybe.” Anduin didn’t sound very convinced. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep old frustration from rising up again. “But just because you can do something by yourself, like fighting off wild animals or planning our next move, or… or whatever it is that’s making you so tense, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help.” He finally made eye contact. “We’re friends, so I don’t like it when I can’t help you. I know you understand that.”

Wrathion nodded slowly. He did understand that. When Anduin was doing something dangerous or hard, he often wanted to step in. When he did, Anduin often got angry and tried to make him stop. It seemed to him that Anduin was being very unfair here. “I do understand that,” he said. “Just as you understand that when assistance is not wanted or necessary, it becomes a nuisance.”

Anduin stopped, opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and then put his hand over his face and sighed. “Let’s try this again. Wrathion, do you know the difference between helping your friends and doing everything by yourself?”

“Of course I do!” Wrathion said indignantly. Anduin might not be trying to insult him, but it was hard not to take it that way. “I’m not stupid. In fact, I’m the most capable fighter on the team, which is exactly why I should be handling things. If something suited to your skills comes up, then you can be in charge of it.”

“Except that’s not true, because when I can handle something I have to fight you first before you’ll let me.” Anduin stared him down. “If I’d left it up to you, we would have attacked the same people who brought us here, to a place where we have a safe shelter, which you’re not even appreciating because you think you can solve every problem by attacking it!” He reached across the table to put a hand on Wrathion’s shoulder. Wrathion flinched, and he let his hand drop instead. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re acting like you think everyone is going to turn on you. It’s not like you.”

“No, it is like me.” Wrathion bit his tongue. He was letting himself get pulled into a conversation he really didn’t want to have, and he hated the expression that appeared on Anduin’s face. “I have many enemies,” he said, by way of explanation. “It is smart to be wary.”

“Yes, but there are reasonable limits.” Anduin’s voice was high and unhappy, his eyes pleading with Wrathion to agree. “You can’t go around looking over your shoulders at everyone. You trust Left and Right, don’t you? And I’m your friend. You know that I won’t hurt you, right?”

“I know that you can’t,” Wrathion said. “That doesn’t mean you won’t ever try. You’ve said that you don’t trust me, so there’s no reason I should trust you.” This was exactly why he avoided talking about things like this. Anduin was looking at him like he’d just announced that he had a terminal illness. There was nothing wrong with his worldview, it had kept him alive through his childhood and had gotten him here with a minimal amount of losses along the way. Anduin was too trusting, so he needed to be the one keeping an eye out for them on this strange world where danger lurked behind every corner.

The sheer weight of his responsibilities loomed over him again, and he closed his eyes to block it out. He was cut off from his Blacktalons until the war began in earnest, and he was supposed to be preparing for that. They would contact him as soon as they could, expecting him to have assignments and news for them. Instead, he was sitting around in a hidden village with nothing to show for his efforts but exhaustion and a few fading scars.

Something touched his hand, soft and light. His eyes snapped open and he managed to resist the instinct to swipe at it with extended claws when he saw that it was only Anduin. He was watching Wrathion carefully, looking for signs that he’d crossed a line. Wrathion schooled his expression into a neutral one and allowed Anduin to take hold of his hand more firmly. He wanted to see where this was going.

Anduin appeared to be searching for words. The longer he waited to speak, the more nervous Wrathion felt. He had been expecting Anduin to keep arguing with him, he wasn’t prepared for… whatever this was. He raised an eyebrow. Anduin failed to respond to his wordless prompting, so he cleared his throat to catch his attention. “Why, Prince Wrynn, I had no idea you felt this way.”

“Shut up.” Anduin’s face went red instantly. He swung his arm up and down to knock their hands roughly on the table. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“Yes, well, I think I’ve had about enough of that.” Wrathion grinned at him, delighted by the reaction. Nothing lifted his spirits more effectively than getting under Anduin’s skin. “So get to the point, please. I thought you came in here to cheer me up, not to dredge up past grievances.”

“Okay, okay.” Anduin glared and took a deep breath. “My point is, I don’t feel like there’s any good reason for me to be here. You’ve been keeping me away from situations where I feel I could help, or at least look out for myself, because you think they’re dangerous. I didn’t come here to be coddled. I followed you here because I want to help you do whatever it is you’re trying to do, and I can’t do that if you’re not willing to rely on me.” His grip on Wrathion’s hand tightened. “You see what I’m saying? I need you to work with me, here. I don’t even know what you’re thinking most of the time.”

Wrathion tried to break eye contact, but found that he couldn’t look away. He opened his mouth to say _you don’t understand what you’re asking_. What came out instead was “Do you want to leave, then?” He cringed at the sound of his own voice. It had gone very quiet, and was filled with resignation. All along, he’d known that bringing Anduin with him might not work out. They didn’t agree well enough,

“No, I don’t,” Anduin said vehemently. “I know I said in the past that I didn’t trust you. Things have changed now. We’re not going to get anywhere if we can’t trust each other at least a little bit.” He paused to gather his thoughts. Wrathion took the momentary quiet to try to slow his own, which were rapidly building into an unmanageable whirl. It was all he could do to refocus when Anduin started speaking again. “I trust you enough to go along with your plans. Can you trust me enough to involve me in them?”

There was no way Wrathion could even begin to answer that, especially not with Anduin looking at him so expectantly. Could he trust Anduin? He didn’t even trust Left and Right. Certainty that they would not attack him came not from trust, but from the mental link which allowed him some ability to predict their actions. Willingly opening up a gap in his defenses was unthinkable, and yet Anduin was portraying it as a good thing that might actually help their efforts on Draenor.

He needed to say something. Anduin was waiting for him to answer, if he was left hanging he might decide that he did want to leave after all. Already his expectant expression was giving way to one of disappointment. Wrathion seized upon the tried and true rogue technique of answering a question without really answering it. “What would that look like, to you?”

Anduin smiled at him, which made him feel worse. He’d already decided that he couldn’t do what Anduin wanted, the rest was just trying to communicate that without driving him away. “I know you’re not used to this whole friendship thing,” Anduin said. Then his eyes widened and he hastily backtracked. “Not that I’m saying you couldn’t have other friends if you wanted! I’m sure lots of people like you! I just mean, it means a lot to me that you’re my friend, even if it’s something you don’t usually do.” He shut his eyes and grimaced. “I’m sorry. What I’m getting at is that I won’t expect you to be comfortable with trusting me, so it’s okay if we start out with little things. For example, if we have to get into another fight, do you think you could trust me to defend myself? I’m pretty handy with knives, and with a bow and arrow, and I can call down holy fire.”

Wrathion waited, but Anduin didn’t say anything else. Was that really it? “I hate to tell you,” he said cautiously, “but you have a certain aura about you which affects people in times of high stress.” He watched to see if Anduin would catch on, but he just looked confused. “It makes people feel protective of you. I’m certain you’re aware. It’s not only me, Left and Right have noticed it too.” Although, he admitted to himself, they did not allow it to influence their behavior. Perhaps it really was time to evaluate his responses, if he could point out his hired guards as having more personal discipline.

“I thought they didn’t like me,” Anduin said at once.

“Don’t be silly, dear prince.” Wrathion smiled. “Everyone likes you.” Belatedly, he realized that Anduin was still holding his hand and tried to inconspicuously pull away.

It didn’t work. Anduin noticed, and turned slightly red again. “Well, thanks.” He coughed and turned away. “Okay, good talk. And, um, I don’t expect you to want to or anything, but if you ever feel like you can’t deal with something by yourself, you can always talk to me about it. Even if you don’t think I can help.”

“I will keep that in mind.” Wrathion stood up. “Are we finished here?” The atmosphere had turned awkward. Wrathion felt choked and uncomfortable, like he had been sitting in Tong’s hot spring too long and needed a few breaths of drier air.

Without waiting for an answer, he got up and made his way quickly over to the door. He’d heard their host leave, the house was empty and as secure as it would ever be. it was the perfect time to familiarize himself with the layout. Left and Right automatically fell into step behind him when he walked out. The upper floor, he knew, was mainly bedrooms. There was a smallish closet in the hallway, which he’d ordered investigated shortly after their arrival and which had been revealed to contain nothing but some sheets and towels folded up on the shelves. Opposite the stairs was a washroom, meant to be shared by anyone staying upstairs. None of the windows were near other buildings or structures that could be climbed, so if the house were invaded, the only way up would be by way of the easily-defensible staircase.

As of yet, he hadn’t explored the ground floor aside from his brief visit to collect Anduin. He made a brief tour through it. The main living area was safe, there were no street-facing windows and the only vulnerability was the door to the backyard, which was enclosed by only a short fence. He would avoid the kitchen if he could, it faced the street and was very open. The master bedroom was downstairs. He only stayed in there for a moment before leaving, aware that what to him was necessary exploration might look like an invasion of privacy to others. It didn’t seem to have any strategic significance. The only exit was back into the main area of the home, so it was worthless as a hiding place. A curved hallway made it near-useless as an ambush site as well, the element of surprise would be lost long before the target came into view.

On the way back through the main room, he heard the front door unlock. Left and Right put their hands on their weapons, but he signaled for them to wait. It was unlikely that an attacker would have a key to the house. He’d grudgingly accepted that their host, who had fed them and allowed them to spend a night safely under her roof, was probably not going harm them. Doing so would be a waste of her time. He backed away from the door, Left and Right behind him, until all three of them were partially hidden behind the staircase.

Their host entered the house quickly, shutting the door behind her before even turning around. That was good, good instincts. Wrathion’s opinion of her raised a notch. She was surprised to see him there, but recovered quickly and said something that sounded friendly.

Wrathion shrugged at her, tentatively returning the smile to cover for his unease. Did she expect him to respond? Thankfully, before he was forced to try forming a sentence from the few Draenei words he could remember, Anduin appeared at the top of the stairs and called down a greeting. Their host said something back and waved for him to come down, which he did, leaving heavily on the railing. Resting his leg, Wrathion guessed. There was no telling how much time they would have here before they headed back out into the world.

They had a brief conversation, which left Anduin looking slightly unsettled. “What’s happening?” Wrathion asked. Anything that made Anduin look nervous was definitely bad news.

“Hang on a minute Wrathion.” Anduin turned back to their host and asked a question, then frowned at the answer.

Wrathion barely resisted the urge to hop impatiently from foot to foot like a child. “Well, what is it?”

“Meren says that the SI:7 came through the town today,” Anduin said. “She talked to Mishka for a few minutes and she told them we’d moved on.”

“She told them we were here?” Wrathion forced his voice down to an urgent whisper.

“They knew we were here,” said Anduin. “They were tracking us, remember? I can’t exactly hide my trail the way you can. They got to the paved road, figured we would follow it, and had a map including possible locations of Draenei settlements. Obviously they would check here.”

“We should leave, then.” Wrathion double-checked to make sure the curtains were all drawn. They were. “You can’t lie to professional spies. They’ll be back.”

“And what if they did believe her?” Anduin asked. “If they were told we’re wandering around outside the town, then going and wandering around outside the town is the stupidest thing we could do. We should lie low here, until we’re sure they’ve moved on. They’re ultimately heading to Shadowmoon Valley, so when we leave we’ll go a different way.” His expression wavered. “But just in case, we should keep our things all together. If it turns out you’re right, we might have to move quickly.”

At the very least, Wrathion could see the sense in not running off wildly when they weren’t sure of the location of their pursuers. He sent Left upstairs to gather everyone’s bags together and bring them back down. Right he sent to keep a lookout. She stationed herself on the front porch, partially concealed behind a railing. Nobody walking by would notice her, unless they were exceptionally gifted or knew to look there.

He only relaxed a little when everything was prepared for a quick getaway. He was hidden with Anduin in the main room, Left watching the back door and Right still at the front. Their bags were together in a row, arranged so that they could easily be grabbed at a moment’s notice. Everything was quiet as the day wore on, and would remain so for a long time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I have managed to force the story to get back on track! Some fun stuff is coming up, I'm hoping that I'll be able to give my plans the sort of writing I think they deserve. I'll be working on this fic as my nanowrimo project this year, which means I'll be stepping up the amount that I write every day. That means I'll be getting ahead, so I might even be able to work on some shorter fic ideas I have on the side! 
> 
> All that said, I think my life is about to get really stressful so maybe my optimism is misplaced.

The day passed slowly. Waiting for something to happen, for some indication of whether or not they had been detected, was agonizing. Anduin was confined to one room of the house, his leg making it unsafe for him to go upstairs or even wander around the ground floor. If a situation arose that demanded they leave immediately, even something as simple as Anduin taking a minute longer than usual to join the rest of the group could be an unmanageable delay. To be fair, Left and Right were forbidden to leave their posts as well. At least they could see outside. Anduin was stuck with the tremendous view offered by four walls and various static objects. He couldn’t even find something to pass the time with, Wrathion was adamant that they should try to avoid distractions.

It could not possibly have been more boring. Anduin sat in a chair, allowing his body to sag ungracefully, and listened to the repetitive noises of the clock on the far wall. Even though he was almost completely sure that they were in no danger, the undercurrent of tension running between Wrathion, Left, and Right was not something he could easily ignore. Instead of being caught up in the collective worry, he just found himself hyperaware of the complete nothingness that came with each passing moment. This must be how Wrathion felt all the time, he decided. Feeling like he had to do something _right that minute_ without any clear idea of what, being unable to start anything for fear of being caught off guard at an inconvenient moment, it was enough to drive anyone into fits.

Certainly, Wrathion wasn’t acting like there was anything out of the ordinary. He was sitting nearer to the back door than Anduin was, perfectly upright with his eyes closed as if he were sleeping. Anduin knew that he was actually listening to the noises of the town around them, or receiving real-time updates from Right and Left about what they could see outside. Nobody could maintain that kind of focus forever though, and as the afternoon slowly gave way to evening he began to stir.

“Everything seems quiet,” he admitted. “If we are to encounter an ambush, now would be the perfect time for it.” He didn’t have to elaborate on what he meant by that. The encroaching evening made it dark enough that spotting an approaching party would be difficult, but there was still enough light to see by.

“How long are we going to keep this up?” Anduin asked.

“It would take a few days to know for certain that your spies have moved on,” Wrathion said. “However, I admit that I would like to cut it a bit shorter than that.”

“I know what you mean.” Anduin yawned. Before Wrathion had started talking, he’d been on the verge of falling asleep. “Do you have a plan about what you want to do next?”

“Until I re-establish connections with my agents on Azeroth, my ability to plan ahead is a little bit stifled,” Wrathion forced the admission out through gritted teeth. “My original plan was to make way for a concentrated attack on the demonic influences on this world, starting by organizing the orc clans against the Burning Legion. You can see how well that worked.”

Anduin tactfully ignored the bitterness in Wrathion’s voice, focusing instead on the first part of what he’d said. He had been aware, of course, that Wrathion made use of an extensive network of agents to keep him informed about current happenings around Pandaria. What he hadn’t realized was how much Wrathion relied on that structure. Being the last of his kind was such a source of personal pride for him that he always gave the impression of being a lone operator despite the constant presence of the Blacktalons. They kept to themselves mostly, and often evaded Anduin’s notice. That was a major part of their job description, of course. He felt stupid for not thinking about it earlier.

“If you’re taking suggestions,” he said, “I have an idea. Part of one, anyway.” Ever since he’d learned about the arakkoa from Meren, he had been mulling over if and how he should bring it up to Wrathion. They wouldn’t be able to speak to any arakkoa, not in a regular fashion, but it might be worth at least taking a look at the conflict. Wrathion was envisioning a world united against the Legion, it made no sense to simply ignore something so major as an entire race of sentient beings.

Wrathion didn’t answer, so Anduin took his silence as an invitation. Explaining what he’d been told about a civil war to the south took less than a minute, highlighting his complete lack of knowledge about the conflict. There was no clear reason why a successful civilization should turn on itself without warning, after such a long period of stability. Wrathion took in the information quietly, by all appearances an attentive listener, although Anduin suspected his mind was elsewhere. When Wrathion was fully engaged in a subject, it was often difficult to get a word in through his habit of thinking out loud.

“It’s interesting,” he said after Anduin finished, “that such major physical differences exist between the known factions. It reminds me of something.”

It reminded Anduin of something too. Orcs who had been tainted by fel magic grew larger and stronger than those without it, and shared distinct characteristics. “You think the Legion is involved?”

“No, probably not.” Wrathion looked disgusted at the idea. “We would definitely know about it if the Legion had such a large foothold on this world already. It seems more likely that there are other dark forces at work, ones that until now were unknown to me.” He frowned. “If there’s one thing I hate, it’s not knowing my enemies. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. We should make for the mountains, and see if we can’t uncover the source of this new problem.”

His eyes glowed brightly, catching Anduin’s attention, and he realized that they had been uncharacteristically dim of late. He smiled at the sight, it was strange to think that in the past he had found the glow unnerving when now it was a welcome sight. Wrathion seemed revitalized, for the moment. Having a concrete goal in mind, something to hunt rather than avoid, had a profound effect on him.

“Not yet we shouldn’t,” Anduin said, still smiling. “I’m glad you’re excited, but I’m not going to run back out into the wilderness without a clue. We need information about the route first. Safe ways to travel, places to avoid, where to look for food, that sort of thing.”

Wrathion sniffed irritably. He often acted like basic travel concerns were a massive imposition on his time, which Anduin tried not to hold against him. After all, if Wrathion were alone, he could just fly himself to wherever he wished to go. Things like maps and compasses and, in this case, mountain passes that could be navigated by someone with an injury, were all trade-offs for the benefit of having a group to work with.

“Don’t be like that.” Anduin made a face at him. “It’s not like I’m going to spend weeks digging through old adventure journals for clues. Meren’s told me that her nephews, the ones who found us, go out exploring pretty regularly. I’m sure one or both of them would be willing to answer my questions. It won’t take long, no more than a day or two, and you can use that time to confirm that we’re not being followed.”

There wasn’t any good way for Wrathion to argue with that, so he settled back down to monitor the watch with only a minimum of grumbling.

* * *

 

The assault was building steam. Soon, very soon, the long wait would be over and Varian would be able to set foot on the soil of Draenor and see for himself the land where his son had gone missing. All that remained to be done was the polishing of the final details. To his dismay, a large number of the teams he’d sent to scout had failed to return within the deadline. He knew that the other armies of the Alliance had suffered similar losses, and could only assume that some of the Horde had also gotten lost on the other side of the Dark Portal. In his bleakest moments, he had to assume that they were dead, early prey to the unknown dangers of a wild land. However, he could not lose hope entirely. One of the last teams to make it back through to safety had described how the orcs of Tanaan, recruited to the Iron Horde, used magic to detect enemies that could quickly uncover even the most skilled of spies. Those that returned believed that their lost allies were simply trapped on the other side, and that the full power of Azeroth’s armies would punch through their enemies and reunite them.

He felt a sharp stab of jealousy for those assigned to the vanguard. Many of the most powerful heroes of the Alliance and the Horde would be leading a headlong charge through enemy lines, to secure footholds on Draenor, to which further troops could be sent directly. The vanguard would be dismantling the Dark Portal on their way, and doing as much damage as they possibly could. Meanwhile, he would be back on Azeroth, organizing the second wave. He’d pushed hard to be included, and as the High King of the Alliance he could have insisted upon it, but good sense had won out. If he lost his life during a reckless charge through dangerous territory, he could no longer be of any use to the Alliance and Stormwind would be without a ruler until Anduin could be recovered.

The invasion date had been set, the clock was counting down. He needed to review recommendations from his armies generals and the other leaders of the Alliance for skilled individuals to be assigned to the vanguard, finalize projected garrison locations, and meet with the leaders of the Horde to discuss where their plans should overlap or stay separate. After that, he needed to coordinate mage portal times and locations, despite not knowing yet when and where they would be needed the most. Then there were countless petitions from nonmilitary adventurers, asking to be included in the vanguard. Some of them would need to be selected to bolster the ranks, and some would need to be told to wait for later stages of the campaign. Not that they would listen. Most importantly, he needed to do all this with a clear head, because bickering over details at such a late stage could trip up the entire effort.

If he could only delegate some of these tasks away, he might be able to breathe easier. Unfortunately, every other high ranking member of the Alliance had just as many responsibilities to see to. It was like the final hours before a gladiatorial fight, with people scrambling to place and change bets and fighters rushing to complete last-minute training, except on a much grander scale. Unseasoned leaders might be nervous to see all the last minute frenzy; Varian allowed himself only a small amount of worry. He had commanded so many campaigns that he had difficulty keeping track of them all, and he knew that the rush of the final preparations would stop on time, revealing a massive army with not a hair out of place. And then the battle would start, and a whole different kind of chaos would set in. Those Iron Horde orcs wouldn’t know what had hit them. He grinned, pulling his lips back over his teeth in what was more of a snarl than a smile.

Supporting the vanguard was an important job too, he told himself. He would be in charge of making sure that no Iron Horde orcs remained in Azeroth once the portal was disabled, unless they were prisoners to be interrogated. Personally, he doubted that they would find any orcs on the Azeroth side of the portal worth taking in for questioning. None of the warriors who had come through it so far had been marked as high ranking officers. It was clear that the bulk of their army, along with all their leaders, remained well behind enemy lines to prepare what they undoubtedly thought would be a conquest worth telling about for generations. Little did they know that their plans were about to be turned back on them.

Varian had to take a minute to laugh, remembering the lengths Azeroth’s defenders had gone to in order to convince the Iron Horde that their defense lines were weak and failing. Sending fewer soldiers than usual so the troops in the Blasted Lands appeared to be struggling, planting intelligence in the army camps to indicate that the Horde and Alliance were fighting amongst themselves rather than enjoying an unprecedented level of cooperation, staged skirmishes between camps at the Dark Portal to keep up the illusion of discord… It had been a lot of fun, if war could ever be said to be fun. Their assault on the portal would be expected, of course, but Varian was convinced that the power and organization of the vanguard would catch the enemy forces by surprise.

They’d also had a surprising amount of success in contacting potential allies on Draenor. The Frostwolf clan of orcs had agreed right away to help the Horde, even in this changed Draenor they were wary of the masters of the Dark Portal. Working closely with Prophet Velen, Varian had sent carefully composed messages out with each of his scout teams, in hopes of encountering locals sympathetic to their cause. This, too, had met with success. The Draenei were suffering from the rampage of the Iron Horde, and several of his teams had returned from their exploration with promising return communications.

Optimism at the start of a war effort was just as bad as a curse, so Varian kept his sentiments to himself and pushed himself doubly hard on the preparations. Nobody would be able to accuse him of complacency when he had more troops training for combat and more brought in for reserve than any of the other leaders of the Alliance. Privately, however, he was already preparing his victory speeches. Once they had the Iron Horde on the run, he could turn his attention to finding his son. Anduin would be sure to want to come home once he saw how both factions were working together to stop the threat.

When he wasn’t out drilling soldiers or committing invasion routes to memory, Varian spent his time planning what he would say to Anduin when he saw him. His failure, in the past, had been trying to maintain safe boundaries through force. Anduin had never responded to that, he had been a diplomat at heart since he was very young. Assuming that he was staying away by choice, Varian’s best hope for bringing him back would be to convince him that he would be better off returning. The specifics of what he might say varied depending on the imaginary scenario of the day. He didn’t know where Anduin was or what he was thinking, so he needed to be prepared for anything.

The challenge of rescuing his son who might not even want to be rescued was more daunting than the war itself. Orcs had been a threat in Varian’s life for as long as he could clearly remember. He’d grown up on tales of marauding orcs and the heroes who fought them off. He trained for battle on dummy orcs, learned their attack strategies and their weaknesses. He’d fought for an orc during his gladiator days, where he’d learned not to underestimate their cleverness and ability to turn a bad situation around. There was nothing that orcs, even so many orcs, could throw at him that would come as a surprise. He could kill an orc in his sleep. If only talking with Anduin was as easy as that.

Anduin was growing into an incredible young man, and Varian had nothing but the highest hopes for him. Someday, he was certain, his son would lead Stormwind into an era of prosperity the likes of which he could hardly imagine. The only thing he needed to do was ensure that Anduin survived until that day. The line between protecting him and stifling him had always been thin, and they’d argued about it more than anything else in the days since Anduin had chosen to abandon his training as a warrior and pursue the path of the Light. Anduin believed that in order to grow, he needed to go far and wide, meet as many different people as he could, and lend aid wherever he was needed. In principle, Varian agreed with him. A student learned more from experience than from the teachings of those who came before them.

Where they differed was in their idea of acceptable risks for a prince to take. Gritting his teeth, Varian recalled his scouts’ reports about the perils of Draenor. _Anything_ could happen to Anduin out there, how could he have possibly thought that it was a good idea to follow a dangerous criminal into a place like that? What little information he had indicated that at least his son was not out there alone, but he was hesitant to even consider that an advantage. On one hand, it meant that he would have additional protection against the various dangers he would be subject to. On the other hand, there was still no definitive proof that he hadn’t been snatched away by someone with harmful intentions. However unlikely it was starting to seem, he could not rule it out as a possibility.

Seven people had been sighted in Talador. Assuming Anduin was one of them, that meant his three agents, Anduin, and three others. Presumably, the same three who Anduin had been seen departing Azeroth with. Two humans and an orc. Varian sighed heavily, remembering what Jaina had said about that. He had never met the friend who Jaina was convinced Anduin had run off with, but he had heard of him. A young dragon at a volatile age, who hired adventurers for all manner of strange requests and made claims that indicated he suffered delusions of grandeur. Exactly the worst sort of person he could imagine his son taking off on an adventure with. Anduin would be safer traveling with a pack of Elwynn wolves.

In three days, Azeroth would march on Draenor, and Varian desperately wished that the war was already over. He had spent too much of his life away from his son. If an apology was needed he would give one, if a rescue was needed he was prepared. It just couldn’t happen soon enough.

* * *

 

There were two paths from Talador into the Spires of Arak, and both were perilous in their own way. The territorial Shattered Hand orcs were a strong force in the jagged mountain range, guarding the roads in and out of Talador. As allies to the Iron Horde, they had access to resources beyond what they normally would have. Such excess had made them bolder, constantly pushing on their borders, looking to expand. Anduin had spent hours at Meren’s house weighing the pros and cons of each road. One way would be faster, cutting the time it would take them to get out of Talador by at least a day or two. Unfortunately, that road would take them through a newly established camp of orcs, who had pushed out into Talador and were harassing a nearby Draenei village. The other route was quiet and often unwatched, but the road ran right past the Shattered Hand clan’s main fortress.

Sneaking past an armored keep swarming with orcs might be possible for Left, Right, and Wrathion. Anduin knew his limits though. He was good at avoiding people he didn’t want to run into, which was not quite the same as stealth. It wasn’t that he was terrible at going unnoticed, he just had comparatively little experience and walked with a noticeable limp. Next to the others, he felt about as stealthy as a rampaging kodo. Going that way would be undeniably risky, even if it seemed like the safer option when he compared the two. At least that way there was a chance of avoiding a violent confrontation. So it was with no small amount of nervousness that he decided to choose the longer route. Anything to avoid marching right into a cluster of enemies when they didn’t have to. They left shortly before dawn on what was a surprisingly chilly morning. Anduin wasn’t sure if it was actually cold or if he’d just grown accustomed to the warmth of indoors, but he found himself wishing he had a heavier robe to keep the air off him until the sun came up.

Despite his nervousness about the dangers they would have to face to reach the Spires, he found it easy to settle back into the routine of traveling. Wrathion set a direct course for the mountain pass, sometimes following the road and sometimes leaving it when it turned off to the side and crossing directly across the landscape. If it hadn’t been for those deviations from the road, and if Anduin’s walking stick hadn’t taken some damage during the goren attack they’d fought off with the SI:7, they never would have found the arakkoa.

It was getting dark, and they were a few days travel away from Aruuna. Anduin knew that he would have to call a stop soon, since they were walking over relatively rough terrain along a dry riverbed. For the moment he could still see, but he wasn’t comfortable enough in his balance to try navigating it at night. He was keeping an eye out for any relatively clear patches of ground where they could potentially stop for the night. No place in particular stood out though, so he kept walking, and it grew darker and darker around them. Eventually he had difficulty seeing where he was placing his feet. The others didn’t seem to notice him slowing down to choose his steps more carefully, and as he called out for them to wait, his walking stick slipped into a narrow groove in the ground. He stumbled, the stick snapped, and he tumbled with an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp into the riverbed.

Falling was something he’d gotten used to during his recovery in Pandaria. When he lost his balance, the reflexes he’d developed at that time kicked in. Curling his head in, he rolled as well as he could until he came to an abrupt stop by crashing into something. Something soft, that made a pained squawk when he jostled it.

“Anduin!” Wrathion called down to him from the edge of the riverbed. “Are you all right? What happened?”

Nothing seemed to be injured, but Anduin sat up slowly just in case. He was dizzy from rolling, otherwise he only had a few scrapes to show for it. “I tripped, and my walking stick is gone,” he called back. “Can you come down though? Carefully? There’s something else down here, and I’d like you to bring a light.”

Wrathion was by his side in an instant, landing gracefully on the ground with a branch he’d pulled from one of the plants growing by the riverbed clutched in his talons. He shifted into his human form and breathed a small jet of fire at the branch to light it, then held out the makeshift torch to Anduin, who gestured for him to keep it. Whatever else was here sounded hurt, which meant he might need full use of his hands.

When he took in the sight illuminated by the small torch, Anduin felt as though he’d been struck in the gut. This was an arakkoa, the small kind he’d heard about from Outland. It was lying facedown on the ground, with some of the worst wounds he’d ever seen scraped into its back. Even in the dark, the bloodstains on its robes were clearly visible. It was still breathing, but the breathing was rapid and shallow and he could hear it wheezing with pain.

“Oh no,” he said, slowly approaching the fallen arakkoa. “I’m not sure if I can heal this.” He reached out anyway on instinct.

“Are you sure you want to?” Wrathion asked. Anduin turned around, outraged, fully intending to tell him off for saying something so cruel. Wrathion cut him off. “I don’t mean to sound uncaring. I do pity this poor creature, those wounds look terrible. It’s only that we don’t know anything about it. Are you certain that, should you heal it, it won’t repay you with a dagger in the back?”

“That’s part of the risk of what I do,” Anduin said shortly. He didn’t have the time for an argument about allegiances and paranoia. “Not everyone who needs my help is going to like me. Speaking of daggers, can I borrow one of yours? I might have to cut these robes to get clear access to the wounds.”

After glancing briefly at Wrathion to get his permission, Right pulled one of her daggers out of its sheath and handed it over. Wrathion still looked unhappy but Anduin could tell it was only out of worry. He didn’t want to watch the arakkoa die either. Holding the torch up, he stepped a little bit closer so that Anduin would have more light to see by. Anduin smiled briefly at the gesture, as unnecessary as it was. Soon, his healing spell would provide all the light he would need.

During his training, he had been tasked with healing wounds that had come from accidents, or warriors practicing too hard. Sometimes those wounds were fairly severe, but they were never anything like this. His patients had all been upright and alert, able to tell him what had happened and where he should focus his healing. In a properly equipped medical bay, or even a field hospital, he would have more supplies than the standard-issue military first aid kit that he had brought along. He had only needed to heal wounds this severe once before, and he’d had a far greater emotional stake in the outcome.

Memories of seeing his father lying prone on the ground, his final breaths gasping away, threatened to pull him away from the moment. He shook his head vigorously to clear it and cut away a bit of the arakkoa’s robe so he could place his hands directly over the wound. His training had emphasized that disinfecting severe wounds was a critical first step in treatment, but his gut was telling him that he didn’t have time for that. The arakkoa was bleeding out in front of him, his first priority had to be stopping the flow before it lost any more blood. Whispering a prayer, he felt the familiar power running through him and seeping down into the deepest gashes to mend flesh and help restore what had been lost.

For a time, he couldn’t tell if his magic was having any effect. Visibly, the wounds were just as severe as they had been when he’d started. Blood was still seeping out and staining his hands where they rested on the arakkoa’s back. Was it coming slower, or was he just seeing what he wanted to see? Redoubling his efforts, he pushed more and more of his power into the healing. He was shaking with the exertion by the time the blood flow was stopped.

Time was still critical, but he knew he couldn’t keep going at that level. It was draining him faster than he was able to work. he pulled back to take a moment’s rest and clumsily wiped at his head with a sleeve, trying his best not to touch anything with his bloody hands. “Can one of you get my first aid kit out?” he asked. “I’m going to start again in a second, I’d appreciate it if you could help me by cleaning the wounds while I work on closing them.”

Wrathion looked around until he located Anduin’s bag, which had come off during his fall and was lying a short distance away. He rummaged through it for the kit, and had it open before he got back. “I don’t know if there’s much I can do with this,” he said, looking critically at the contents.

“I know, just do your best.” The kit was stocked sufficiently for mild to moderate injuries, it did not have enough supplies for wounds as extensive as these. Anduin would worry about that later, once the immediate danger was addressed. He closed his eyes and started healing again, only marginally aware of Wrathion trying to mop up the blood around his hands. The Light told him where the wounds were mending, he could feel them closing deep down where he couldn’t see the progress. It also told him the places he needed to focus on more, where the bleeding had stopped but no real healing was yet taking place. If he concentrated hard enough he thought he could even sense the arakkoa’s heartbeat, although he couldn’t make sense of that information without knowing what a normal pulse was for arakkoa.

He stopped the healing when he’d reduced the gashes to surface-level scratches. There was still a little more energy left in him, he wasn’t completely drained yet, but the arakkoa was stable and he knew he would be able to do more for it if he rested. Lying back against the side of the riverbank, he directed Wrathion on how to finish cleaning the wounds and apply bandages without jostling the arakkoa too badly. Wrathion did a clumsy job, but it would hold until the morning.

“We shouldn’t stay down here,” he told Anduin when he’d finished. “It looks dry now, but if it rains even somewhere very far away the river could flood, and we’d all be swept away.”

“I hear you, but I don’t think we have a choice.” Anduin shrugged apologetically. “I haven’t got the energy to climb up right now, and I’d really prefer it if we didn’t try to move my patient. I think I healed the worst of the injuries, but stress could make its condition go downhill again.”

He didn’t have to see Wrathion’s face to know he wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea. Forcing himself to his feet again, he walked a short distance away to try washing some of the blood off his hands with the water he carried. When he finished he eyed the arakkoa critically and pushed his backpack gently under its head as a makeshift pillow. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it was better than nothing. He was still drained from the healing but he lay down nearby and swore to himself that he would sleep lightly, so he would wake if he was needed. The arakkoa lay unnaturally still, Anduin could only hope that his healing had been enough to keep it alive through the night.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On one hand, nanowrimo is doing wonders for cutting back the amount of time it takes me to finish a chapter of this monstrosity. It's really helping my stress level, and making me feel more confident that I will eventually finish! On the other hand it's really messing with my ability to pace events appropriately. I'm sure I'll adjust, but this chapter definitely feels badly put-together to me and I'm sorry about that. 
> 
> Speaking of nanowrimo, when I get ahead on this story I'll be writing oneshots to kill time, drawn from old things I never finished or ideas I never got the chance to work on. I have one done already, and I'll be posting it tomorrow or Monday once I get the chance to fix some things about it that are bothering me. The intention with those is to expand the number of things I feel like I can successfully write about, and I'm 100% open to taking prompts, so if anyone who reads this fic has anything they've always wanted to see get written, drop me a line on my writing blog (http://wolfwritingblog.tumblr.com/) and I'll see if it's something I can do. I'm feeling wranduin more than anything at the moment but I'm happy to try my hand at writing about other WoW characters as well.

Anduin Wrynn’s talent for making friends in the most unlikely of places was nothing short of remarkable. In the past Wrathion had often considered trying to find some way to harness it. The relative peace that his presence in Tong’s tavern inspired had made dealing with adventurers from both factions much less of a headache. Watching Anduin’s interactions with his arakkoa patient made Wrathion take that line of thought back up.

Perhaps it had been his genuine delight at seeing his patient conscious the morning after the first healing session that had paved the way for the amiable interactions they now enjoyed with the arakkoa. Anduin’s emotions were always contagious. Despite the fact that they had no means of communicating with the creature, it was happily seated while Anduin cared for the lesser of its injuries, occasionally making odd squawking sounds that Wrathion had to assume were part of a language. Anduin had tried to mimic some of the noises, but it became quickly apparent that human mouths and vocal cords were inadequate for reproducing them. The arakkoa, however, could mimic human speech with complete accuracy. There was a certain air of smugness to the way it repeated words back to Anduin, although it clearly had no concept of the meanings of the words it was parroting.

If he made an effort, Wrathion could learn the basics of a new language within a few weeks. Either all arakkoa were nearly as skilled, or this one was just exceptionally talented, because within a few days it had learned the words for most everyday objects around the camp. Questioning the usefulness of teaching it these things when it lacked any context to appreciate them always earned him angry reprimands from Anduin. “I’m trying to make a connection,” he’d said one day when he’d grown tired of hearing Wrathion remark about how far they could have traveled by this time if they had just healed the arakkoa and gotten on with it. “If she finds her people again, she might tell them about us. It’s worth a little bit of time.”

A sentiment Wrathion could easily agree with, if he had any proof that the arakkoa truly understood the words it was repeating and wasn’t just humoring Anduin. He always watched it closely while Anduin interacted with it, but he hadn’t seen any signs of comprehension. It wasn’t clear to him if that was due to a real lack of understanding, or if it was because he just couldn’t recognize avian body language. It had been a puzzle he wanted to solve, so he spent as much time as he could observing the creature during Anduin's interactions with it, until Anduin had told him to stop.

"I can't focus with you hovering like that," he said with a frown. "I don't care if you're curious, but if you can't stay calm then you can't stay at all."

"I'm perfectly calm," Wrathion answered. "And I need to stay close and keep an eye on things here. It's as you said, we don't know anything about the arakkoa. You are attempting to learn about it in your way, I'm doing the same in my way."

Anduin wasn't impressed. "You're just being paranoid again, admit it." He looked pointedly at Wrathion's hand, which was absently toying with the dagger on his belt. "If you keep messing with that, it's going to create a hostile environment, and then nobody will be able to learn anything."

He didn't think he was being paranoid, and he hadn't even noticed what he was doing with the dagger. Surely an unconscious movement couldn’t be held against him? Pointedly drawing holding his hands up away from his body, he left them to their speech lessons and strode to the edge of the campsite to join Left and Right on sentry duty. It wasn't like they really needed the help, but from there he could continue to discreetly watch the arakkoa without distracting Anduin.

He’d been making progress since he began, and after a time he could decipher its movements with a certain measure of accuracy. A bobbing head, normally a sign of agreement or assent in mammals, just meant that the arakkoa was excited about something. He often saw it doing that when it picked up a new word, which indicated to him that it truly was learning. That was something, at any rate. It was also interestingly close to the natural movements of dragons. He wasn't as twitchy as the arakkoa appeared to be, but there was definitely a similarity. Dragons, however, did not have feathers, which left one behavioral quirk of the arakkoa frustratingly out of his reach. Sometimes, often even, its feathers would move. He wasn't sure if it was moving them purposefully or as an involuntary reaction to things, but sometimes they would spike up on end or flatten, and sometimes they would turn so as to reflect the light in different ways and emphasize various colors. He was at a loss to determine whether this was a significant form of communication or not.

When the arakkoa was troubled by its wounds, it drew in on itself and its feathers would flare outward. When Anduin examined the wounds, the feathers would move outward to make it easier for him to see. This, at least, was easy to understand, and suggested some level of conscious control over them. There never seemed to be anything really wrong with it when Anduin checked, and at this point the healing process had progressed to a stage where any remaining pain would be very mild. Wrathion had a suspicion that the arakkoa was testing Anduin, trying to learn his reactions the same way Wrathion was observing it.

How aggravating. Wrathion scowled at the arakkoa’s back, knowing that it couldn’t see him. If the thing genuinely wanted to work with Anduin and form a friendship of sorts, he supposed it was none of his business. If, on the other hand, it was just using Anduin as a test case for interacting with non-arakkoan races, then Wrathion was going to have all kinds of problems with it. He wouldn’t stand for that kind of disrespect directed at his friend.

Anduin shot him an exasperated look over the arakkoa’s shoulder, which made him realize that he’d begun to growl softly. He let out an exaggerated cough, cleared his throat, and looked nonchalantly off into the distance. Anduin Wrynn was too smart to be fooled by such gestures, but perhaps he would get the message that Wrathion hadn’t really meant anything by it. He fully supported Anduin’s attempts to befriend this creature, even if he did not believe it would serve any greater purpose. It was important, after all, to encourage his friend to pursue dreams. Anduin’s tenacity when presented with a challenge was one of the most delightful aspects of his personality, and Wrathion hoped that life would never hammer it out of him.

On occasion, it still responded to things Anduin said with words in its own language. Anduin learning to speak Arakkoa had been a lost cause from the beginning, but Wrathion knew he would still want to listen to the language and try to comprehend it, even if he could not recreate the words. It seemed an overly optimistic wish to him. Listening to the arakkoa’s screeching made his ears hurt, he couldn’t imagine anyone being able to pinpoint differences between the vocalizations over the ringing in their own ears.

* * *

  
Somehow it hadn’t occurred to Anduin that, without any sign of other arakkoa in the area, his new friend wouldn’t have anywhere to go once he’d done all he could with his healing skills. When they’d said their goodbyes and left her, she had followed them for half a day and showed no signs of stopping. Reluctantly, Wrathion had agreed to slow down and allow her to catch up. Anduin didn’t mind the delay, for it allowed him more time to come up with a workable method of speaking with her. Although her Common vocabulary was expanding all the time, he had no way of teaching her the words for anything he couldn’t point to in the moment. As for his progress in learning Arakkoa, the only word he could consistently recognize was the odd screech he believed to be her name. It sounded to him like _Rashek_ but obviously he was missing some nuances of inflection, because she had quickly stopped him from further attempting to pronounce it.

Unfortunately, after a few days the downsides to allowing her to follow them became apparent. She knew orcs, and evidently had a very bad opinion of them. Whenever Left got within a few yards of her, she would flap her wings and hiss loudly. Anduin tried several times to explain that she couldn’t travel with them if she kept that up, through creative stick drawings in the dirt. Either the message didn’t sink in or she simply had no interest in behaving nicely. As for Right, Wrathion, and himself, he had the distinct sensation that she considered them to be interesting oddities, rather than desired company. She spent the majority of their travel time watching them all uncomfortably intently, her head turning this way and that.

Soon, he knew Wrathion’s patience with this behavior would run out. He had been remarkably accommodating of both the healing and the attempt to befriend Rashek, which Anduin truly appreciated. Left was one of his most valuable allies, however, and the Black Prince had a reputation all over Pandaria for treating his allies as extensions of his person. An insult to one of them meant the same thing to him as if the insult had been directed to his face. It was only a matter of time before he decided that he would not put up with Rashek’s complaints any longer and demanded that they leave her behind.

Before that happened, Anduin wanted to find some way to gently discourage her from following them any more. Wrathion blowing up would only undo his careful work building up the small amount of trust that Rashek had for them. He wanted her to remember humans as interesting and helpful rather than angry and aggressive. Even if it was overly optimistic, he liked to think that he could be a positive influence on the eventual meeting between Azerothian forces and this group of refugee arakkoa. He just had to find a good way to say goodbye, and an appropriate time to try it.

The problem with looking for a perfect moment for all this to come along was that, by and large, perfect moments did not exist. He was walking along one afternoon, lost in his thoughts, when suddenly a shouting match erupted. He couldn’t tell what, exactly, had set it off, but Wrathion and Rashek were in each others’ faces, shouting insults and screeching, respectively. His stomach dropped, and cold panic rushed in. That was it, his hopes for peace with the arakkoa were going to be ruined if he didn’t do something fast. Without his walking stick he couldn’t move as fast as he would like. Precious seconds passed while he rushed to catch up to them, shouting and not even hearing his own voice above the cacophony.

He reached them and shoved Wrathion back, placing himself between them. “Stop it!”

Wrathion registered his presence long enough to growl at him. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he snapped. “This thing just threatened Left! It’s been against us from the start, it’s just been playing nice with you so you’ll defend it.”

He turned his attention back to Rashek, who was doing her best to drown out Wrathion’s words. Lacking the context to insult him properly, she was hissing out every unpleasant word she knew in between loud squawks. “Thorns! Blood! Knife!”

Wrathion took a step closer, completely unaffected by Anduin’s attempts to hold him back. “You see? It wants a fight.” He bared his teeth in a decidedly inhuman snarl. “Ungrateful beast. Barely recovered from the last time it picked a fight and now it’s turning on us, it’s almost as if it wants to die.”

“I said _stop_.” Anduin pushed Wrathion back again, despite knowing that Wrathion was much stronger than he was and only moving out of some form of courtesy. “That means _both_ of you.” He stared at Rashek over his shoulder. Even if she couldn’t understand his words, the meaning of them would be clear. “What did she do that made you think you had to step in? From where I was, it didn’t look like anything was happening.”

“Of course you’re taking its side,” Wrathion hissed. “I told you, it’s acting sweet and helpless near you so you won’t be suspicious of it.”

“I don’t think she’s helpless, and accusing me too isn’t going to help you.” This wasn’t getting anywhere, and Anduin didn’t have the time to wait for Wrathion’s brain to catch up to his fighting instincts. He spun angrily away from Wrathion to address Left instead. “Since he’s not going to cooperate, you tell me what happened. Did you really get threatened?”

It was rare for Wrathion’s bodyguards to drop their stoic affects when on duty, so it was telling that Left looked slightly uncomfortable with the question. She appeared uncertain that she had Wrathion’s permission to speak. Only when several moments passed and he did not move to stop her did she respond. “I do not believe that it was a direct threat,” she said slowly. “The arakkoa is afraid of me.”

Anduin nodded. He’d come to that conclusion about Rashek’s outbursts as well, they reminded him more of a prey animal trying to scare a predator off than an intentional attack. “I’ve noticed,” he said. “Did Wrathion just get fed up with the noise, or did something different happen?”

“It’s been mumbling under its breath all day,” Left told him. “You’ve been far enough back that you wouldn’t have heard it. Sometimes it says clear words, but I think most of the time it just _sounds_ like real speech. It has also been watching me, on account of its fear, and His Majesty believes that these are signs it is planning to attack me.”

“Do you think that’s likely?” Anduin sighed. He’d believed that Wrathion’s nerves were improving. Maybe he was just keeping them under wraps more effectively.

“My job is to believe that any potential threats are credible.” She shrugged at him. “His Majesty is often correct about these things.”

“All right, thank you Left. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.” Anduin knew that Wrathion’s agents were not normally allowed to question his decisions. Left and Right were allowed a certain amount of freedom, being his top agents, but they had their limits and did not like to contradict him in public. Instead they would make their concerns known in subtler ways. Left did not believe that Wrathion had made a good call this time, she had indicated that much through her expressions and the assertion that Wrathion was _often_ , but not _always_ correct. However, she was also not happy with Anduin. It was plain that she did not care what happened to Rashek, whether there had been a credible threat or not.

Aware that he was stepping onto even thinner ice, Anduin turned back to Wrathion. “Can you take Left and Right and go on ahead a bit? I’ll talk to her and catch up to you.”

Wrathion looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “No.”

“You don’t even have to go out of sight.” Why did he always have to be the reasonable one? Anduin pointed at a stand of trees about thirty feet away. “Just take Left and Right and go stand over there, I promise nothing bad will happen.” When Wrathion’s only response was to raise an eyebrow, he sighed and added “Please? This is part of the whole _trusting me to take care of myself_ thing. Remember that we talked about that? If she turns vicious on me, I think I can manage to defend myself against a weakened arakkoa half my height.”

“It it’s space you want, I’ll give you that.” Wrathion backed off a few feet. “I won’t go as far as you suggest, but I will not interfere with you.” He called Left and Right to him, continuing to back away until he was halfway between Anduin and the group of trees.

As far as easing the tension went, that did absolutely nothing. Anduin resigned himself to working with Wrathion just shy of breathing down his neck. Rashek was still understandably agitated, clicking her beak and staring back at Wrathion with almost the same levels of anger and suspicion. “Latch,” she muttered, giving Anduin a sidelong glance.

Anduin’s plans for trying to start a conversation vanished from his head, and he tilted his head in confusion. What did that mean? The way she’d looked at him, he could tell that he was meant to understand. Was she asking him to get something out of his bag? He started to remove it, and stopped when she squawked defensively. She didn’t want anything from him, then. How was he supposed to…? It hit him suddenly, and he started laughing. The previous day, he had been really struggling to open the latch on his first-aid kid, and had been getting frustrated. She was making a comparison about Wrathion.

“Yes, he can be a little bit like that sometimes.” Anduin shook his head in amusement. He paused, wondering how to continue from that moment of shared understanding. He felt more relaxed now, and he could tell Rashek did too, but that didn’t mean anything if he couldn’t build on it. She seemed to be taking to using words symbolically, would that be enough? He sat slowly and absently toyed with his mother’s locket, safely tucked under his shirt.

“Map?” Rashek asked him.

That probably wasn’t literal either, but just in case and because he would need it eventually, Anduin took his bag off and felt around inside for the map. It was brand new, a parting gift from Meren, and it was all his. Wrathion still insisted on using their old one, even though it was smaller and less detailed. He unfolded it carefully while Rashek walked judgmentally. So she didn’t want to see it after all. What she’d said had the tones of a question, he just couldn’t figure out what it was. Given the subject, probably something about Wrathion. Was Wrathion a map? Did Anduin rely on him to know where to go? That might be it. Hoping he had the right interpretation, he cautiously shook his head. “No.”

Rashek bobbed her head happily and pointed to herself. “Map!” she squawked.

Anduin started to have some idea where this was going. _If you don’t need them, come with me_. It seemed like a strange thing to suggest. Rashek didn’t know that they were operating without a clear destination, for all she knew he was heading to the mountains for something very important, and he doubted that she would want to return there. He realized, with one of those flashes of clarity that always seemed to come too late, that at least part of her fear must be coming from that. The Iron Horde was a force in the Spires, and Rashek had been frightened of Left. Did she think Anduin a prisoner? He hoped that his interactions with Left and Right weren’t strained enough to suggest something like that. They might not see eye to eye with him, but he did like them.

He shook his head again, smiling and hoping to appear as relaxed as possible. “No,” he said again. Wrathion being difficult was nothing new, even if he had been more of a pain than usual of late.

Rashek looked over at Wrathion and narrowed her eyes. “Knife.”

Her last interaction with Wrathion had been close to descending into violence, so Anduin could see why she was worried. It was something he worried about himself, sometimes. Wrathion had always had a certain fascination with violent acts, saw conquest as a viable way to end a war, and had been frighteningly interested in the works of the Thunder King. Once, Anduin had become so concerned that he’d privately written to Kalec, although he’d been sparing with details, knowing that his letter would likely be shared with Jaina. Kalec had responded that young dragons often thought that way, and it was only age and experience that taught them there was more to life than worrying about who was strongest.

Back then, Wrathion’s biggest displays of temper had been over losing board games, and never anything more severe than a few hours of sulking and an occasional slammed window. Most of the time, he’d been cheerful and warm. Since his plans in Pandaria had been disrupted he’d been acting up more and more. Anduin sometimes wondered which side of Wrathion represented his real personality, and in his worst moments he worried that maybe Jaina was right and he had made friends with someone terrible. Every time his thoughts went down that path he reminded himself that Wrathion was under a lot of stress, and that in moments of calm his more open personality shone through. He was struggling without his network, and was trying to find some other way to feel he was in control. Anduin could not make himself believe that Wrathion was a danger to him.

“No,” he said again. “He’s not normally like this, you don’t need to worry about me.”

While he was thinking he had been tracing how far they’d come on the map with his hand, and that gave him an idea. He moved it around so Rashek could see, and indicated Aruuna. “We started out here,” he said, “and we found you about here.” He moved his finger along their path and tapped on the map in an approximation of the place where they’d met her. To make sure she got the idea, even if she didn’t understand what he was saying, he pointed to her and indicated that spot on the map again. Then he drew an imaginary line, starting at Aruuna, moving through where they’d met Rashek and where they were now, and continuing on South toward the mountains. “We’re going this way. Which way were you going?” He pushed the map toward her, hoping he hadn’t confused her too much.

At first, he thought she hadn’t understood what he was asking. She regarded the map with confusion, holding it up and looking at it with a tilted head like she was trying to uncover a coded message. At last, she placed it back down on the ground between them and gestured uncertainly to a spot on the ground past the edge of it, and he realized that she was indicating she hadn’t come from Talador. She waited for him to nod in understanding, then pointed to one of the paths out of the Spires, presumably the one she had taken. Taking care not to scrape the paper with her talon she drew a careful zigzag heading steadily up into Talador, until she reached the place where they had encountered her.

“Were you alone?” Anduin asked. He pointed to himself and held up a pebble, then indicated Wrathion, Left, and Right and put three more pebbles down next to it.

Rashek grabbed a small handful of pebbles, not concerning herself with picking out an exact number. She traced several lines on the map radiating out from the place she’d been attacked, but didn’t seem certain of any of them. A small group of refugees, then, if Anduin was interpreting this correctly? And she thought they would still be heading in a Northern direction, but wasn’t sure exactly where they might have ended up. Anduin frowned down at the map. He couldn’t very well make her leave if she didn’t know where to go. He also couldn’t invite her to stay. They were heading to the mountains, and he wouldn’t deliver her right into the hands of the people she was trying to escape from.

He felt a soft pat on his head and looked up. Rashek made a soft chirping noise at him, then stood. She folded up his map and offered it back, but he shook his head. Soon it wouldn’t matter, he hadn’t been able to find a map of the Spires. Better for someone who was remaining in Talador to take it. It was clear that she was unwilling to continue traveling with Wrathion, and Anduin had started this conversation to try to ask her to leave, but he still felt a bit of guilt. Would she be all right on her own? “Will you be able to find your friends?” he asked, pointing at the handful of rocks she’d dropped on the ground.

In response, Rashek cupped a hand around her beak and whistled loudly. A nearby bird whistled back, and he could hear a third chime in faintly from a distance. Anduin looked around for the birds, but he couldn’t see them in the trees. Had she been doing that the entire time? He tried to remember. No, he didn’t think she had. He would remember seeing something like that happen. He’d heard that the arakkoa in Outland kept birds as companion animals, but somehow hadn’t thought that they might be able to speak with them. He smiled, comforted. If she retraced her steps, and kept trying to signal for other arakkoa, having a skill like that could help her search over long distances. And for all he knew, there were more arakkoa going North all the time. With any luck, she would be reunited with her people again soon. He smiled and pushed himself up off the ground to rejoin the group.

* * *

 

Wrathion’s first impression of the Spires of Arak was that it was a horrible place for a society of flighted creatures to call home. He’d tried to take a test flight when they’d first reached the mountains, so as get a better idea of where they were and what was around them, and he’d been forced to land almost immediately by unpredictable gusts of strong wind that threatened to send him crashing into the sharp rocks rising up around them on every side like quillrat spines. If he flew much higher than ten or fifteen feet off the ground, he risked getting caught up in a draft and swept into the nearest mountainside. Aerial hunting was out of the question, he would have to find a different way to hunt for himself.

Anduin had pointed out that many flying beasts, as well as the flighted arakkoa, had lived here for thousands of years and gotten along just fine, so maybe Wrathion would get used to the conditions if he practiced enough. Wrathion wasn’t going to try. Privately, he felt that the problem was with his wings. Every flying beast they’d seen had wingspans at least twice as wide as his own. It was possible, although he hated to admit it even to himself, that he was just not large enough to contend with the currents. Even acknowledging the idea was bad enough, he refused to put himself through the humiliation of testing it. Until he was at least the size of the rylaks that occasionally flew overhead, he would be staying close to the ground to avoid getting blown away.

Even without the unusual air patterns, the Spires would be a ghastly place to live. The ground alternated wildly between dry gravel and murky swamp, there were hardly any plants, and giant insects infested any trees that managed to grow in the rough conditions. It wasn’t hard at all for Wrathion to imagine some sort of horrible evil at work in this place. There was a lingering impression of magic permeating the environment, newer in some places than others, and it was alarmingly similar to the dark auras he’d used to track down the remaining corrupted members of his flight.

He distracted himself from the uneasiness by doubling back to check on Anduin. He hadn’t managed to find a suitable replacement for his walking stick yet, and was making do with a branch that was taller than he was. Wrathion sensed that the effort of hauling the branch around and the discomfort in his leg weren’t the only reasons he kept slowing down. He’d been downcast since the arakkoa left him, Wrathion couldn’t fathom it. The creature had been unpleasant, sneaky, and far too intelligent for his liking. Anduin had really taken a liking to it though, and now he kept looking back over his shoulder while they walked. Wrathion was sympathetic, it was never pleasant to leave someone behind. If he hadn’t had to leave most of his agents on Azeroth, they might not be here in this desolate place, approaching a heavily guarded fortress in the middle of the day. Still, that was what they were doing, and he would appreciate a bit more haste.

“Still sad about your friend?” He asked once he’d let Anduin catch up to him.

Anduin glared. He’d mostly finished scolding Wrathion for being so uncharitable toward the arakkoa, but hadn’t quite let it go yet. “I’m not sad,” he said. “I’m a little worried, but I think she’ll be okay.” He stopped to take a few gasping breaths. They had been hiking up a steep slope, and even Left was getting a bit winded. “Did you come back here just to ask about that? I didn’t think you cared.”

“You put so much effort into helping it, it would be unacceptably rude if I didn’t care about it at all,” Wrathion said. “In this case, however, my main concern is for you. I’ve noticed you’re stopping a lot.”

“Oh, that’s, it’s nothing really,” Anduin answered. “It’s just that I keep thinking I see something in the sky. Not anything alive,” he added hastily when Wrathion’s eyes widened. “It’s like the colors change? And a while ago I thought I saw smoke. I might just be imagining things, everything looks normal now.”

“Hmm.” Wrathion turned and stared out into the empty sky until his eyes started to water. Perhaps, if he looked hard enough, there was something? A flicker of movement, almost like a shadow running along a wall. On the other hand, it could just be a trick of the eyes. “If there is something going on, it’s very far away. I think we’re safe from it here.”

As he spoke, the flickering grew more pronounced, and he began to question that assessment. The dull monochrome of the sky in the Spires began to reflect flashes of color, almost like the auroras on Azeroth. Wrathion looked around for cover, not sure what was happening but certain he didn’t want to be exposed to it. He imagined he could hear a distant rumble to accompany the strange sight, although he knew that in reality he was just hearing the wind through the mountains. A scraggly tree, devoid of leaves, was growing off to the side of the path. It was all but worthless as a real cover, and at the same time it was better than anything else nearby. Wrathion rushed to get under it and pushed his back up against the side of the mountain just in case. Anduin joined him momentarily, and he sent Left and Right an urgent command to stop and wait where they were.

As suddenly as it started, the aurora ended. Wrathion waited a few minutes before moving. Some huge event had taken place, somewhere. He could feel the magic in the rocks around him reacting to it, although he was not yet capable of reading it well enough to have any ideas about what had happened. His biggest source of comfort was that whatever it was, it had been very distant. He would be sensing more than whispers of magic if it had been nearer. He watched the sky closely for the remainder of the afternoon, but it did not happen again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The problem with the plan for this story is that I have a bunch of stuff I know I want to include, but I don't really know when or how any of that is going to come up or how it's going to end. It's not a problem just yet, I'm just nervously side-eyeing all the ideas I'm trying to balance. I'm still working on nanowrimo stuff, I've posted one finished oneshot and I'm working on two more. It's fun to take a break from this story a couple days a week, so I don't feel like I'm crashing it repeatedly into a wall. 
> 
> Anyway, here's some overdone tropes for you all. I thought it might be weird that Varian is using first names for his people, but he does have that sort of personality so I decided to keep it like that.

Varian took a deep breath, letting the smell of freshly cut timber fill his nose. Building crews had been working on the garrison at Lunarfall day and night, and it was rapidly starting to look like a real settlement. There had been a few problems to sort out in the beginning, people getting lost, wild animals to fend off, envoys to the nearby villages. Now that a pace had been established, everything was falling into place at a satisfying rate. The Alliance had some of the most hardworking, capable people on Azeroth, and it was his honor to work with them. He would have loved to take a longer tour of the garrison, seeing new projects thrive was one of the best parts of his job, but he wasn’t here for that.There was business to see to. One of his errant scout teams had been located in the area, and Mathias Shaw had come out to fetch them and receive their reports. Instead of having the garrison’s mage team send them back to Stormwind, Varian had decided to meet them in the field. He was about to start climbing the walls of Stormwind Keep, it would do him some good to see what progress was being made on the front lines.

Most of the garrison’s buildings were still under construction, leaving very little secure space for a classified meeting. Varian eventually settled on the barracks, which were almost complete. Only a few structural reinforcements remained to be completed, and they were not urgent. The building crew and soldiers dutifully cleared out with a minimum amount of grumbling, leaving them in relative privacy. They would have to keep things brief, of course, and avoid discussing anything that shouldn’t be overheard, but that shouldn’t be too difficult. He’d sent them out to do a general survey of the area and make contact with locals, not to do any serious espionage.

Unsurprisingly, when the agents were shown in by the garrison’s commander they were all in something of a dour mood. As they hadn’t returned to Azeroth at the scheduled time, before the start of the campaign, their mission had been marked down as a failure. Mathias would no doubt have consequences in mind, and nobody ever wanted to get on his bad side. He hadn’t become the head of the SI:7 by being kind and gentle. Still, they were alive. That was more than could be said for some of the other early scouts. They filed in with their heads down, all sporting minor scrapes and bruises, but otherwise looking to be in good health. Varian was glad for that, they would likely need to be sent out again as soon as they were properly rested.

Mathias watched silently as they each took a seat around the barracks’ dining table. No doubt he had his own private method of assessing their conditions. He knew his agents better than Varian did, and would be more likely to notice subtle differences in their bearing. Amber and Mishka both seemed unnaturally interested in the subtle details carved into the table. Elling, on the other hand, stared Mathias down.

“Before you start lecturing us,” he said, “I want to mention that I’m retiring.”

Mathias raised his eyebrow. “You don’t look much worse for the wear,” he said. “Surely you didn’t find this mission to be beyond your capabilities? I understand that there may have been unforeseen circumstances preventing your return.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Elling said bitterly. “I never wanted to be a field agent. In fact, I specifically requested that I not be given field assignments, and you had me running around out here chasing runaway royals and driving off wild animals. I’ve spent too much time out here and away from my shop. As soon as we’re done here, I’m going home. I won’t leak any of your secrets if you’ll leave me alone.”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.” Amber had recovered a bit of her usual attitude after realizing that Shaw wasn’t really angry with them. “I thought you did a great job!”

Elling crossed his arms and turned to face the wall. His mind was made up on the matter. Varian would be sorry to see him go, the SI:7 was small and close-knit. They’d suffered too many losses as it was, the functioning of the entire organization would be feeling the effects. However, there was something even more important that he zeroed in on.

“So it’s true, then?” He leaned forward onto the table. “You saw my son?”

“Sure did,” Amber answered him. “He was with that dragon who’s got wanted posters all over Stormwind, and a couple of his rogues. They followed us for a while, gave us the slip around Zangarra.” She looked uncomfortable. “I don’t remember a lot about that, so please don’t ask for details.”

There was a certain kind of satisfaction to having his suspicions confirmed, but it was overshadowed by the awful sinking feeling that accompanied the realization. Anduin _had_ run away, and he was doing everything in his power to avoid being sent home. Varian rubbed at his forehead and sighed. “I imagine he’s still furious with me.”

“I don’t recall that he mentioned you at all, actually.” Amber shrugged at him. “We all had other things on our minds.”

He should have expected that. It stung anyway. Was Anduin even thinking about him? He spent so much time away from home, and Varian knew it was good for him. He just hated feeling like he was the one driving Anduin away. Despite all his best efforts, he still wound up in conflict with Anduin, sometimes about major things but even about little things that shouldn’t really matter. Improving his temper didn’t mean anything if he lost his head every time his son decided to spend time with him.

“Was he all right?” he asked. “Did he seem happy?”

The three agents exchanged glances. Mishka cleared her throat softly and spoke in the gentle tones that healers were taught to soothe injured patients. “He was always very tired. Travel was taking up much of his energy, but not so much that he could not keep up. When we were attacked by goren, he showed an admirable amount of talent for one so young.”

Varian smiled despite himself. Anduin had flourished over the course of his training, and had come out of it possessing skills to rival those of many members of Stormwind’s church, adults who had trained most of their lives. He refused to accept compliments about his abilities, insisting that the draenei he trained with were all far more skilled than he was. Not many people had been able to witness his power, and Varian felt a surge of fatherly pride. “He’s become an accomplished healer,” he said. “I hope that his talent wasn’t badly needed.”

“You’re underestimating us, Your Majesty.” Amber patted her trusty rifle. “We ran them off right away, once the dragon decided to stop showing off.”

Showing off? Varian had very little patience for showoffs, especially when all they did was get in the way. He frowned in disapproval. “He’d better not have put Anduin in any danger.”

“Actually, he seemed very intent on keeping the fight away from your son entirely,” Mishka said slowly. “He sent his guards to cover Anduin’s retreat, and only disengaged from the fight when he realized that Anduin was safe with us.” She glanced at Amber before continuing. “The others and I disagree on this, but I didn’t get the impression that he was trying to show off.” She paused, tapping her fingers on the table. “Well, maybe a little bit.”

In the same situation, Varian knew he would do the same thing. He shook that thought off quickly. That way lay sympathizing with the dragon who had stolen his son away. “I’ll bet Anduin wasn’t happy with that.” After the Divine Bell had shattered on him, Anduin had become very sensitive about other peoples’ attempts to protect him. He wouldn’t put up with anything he perceived as coddling.

The conversation then turned to other subjects. Much as Varian would like to keep talking about Anduin and squeeze every drop of information about his activities on Draenor out of these agents, they had other matters to deal with at this meeting. Mathias was getting impatient, and Varian could not stay away from the castle for long. Perhaps later, once they had all returned to Stormwind, he would be able to track them down and demand more details.

“Even though you were not able to report in on time,” Mathias said, disapproval evident in every syllable, “your failure may still hold valuable information for us. Please proceed with the report you intended to give me upon reaching Stormwind.”

“You didn’t get it?” Elling sounded outraged. “I handed a written copy to those weird mana things at Zangarra! What are they good for if they can’t even deliver messages?”

“Carrying physical objects between worlds is not their primary job, or so I am told,” Shaw answered. “I don’t like it any more than you do. All we received was a report that you had contacted them for some purpose.”

“Yes, not that it matters anymore,” Elling grumbled. “We discovered that the portal was being powered with some very dangerous captives, and wanted to warn you against taking dramatic measures to disable it. But now you’re here, and they’re out there, and there’s no telling what will happen next. One more very good reason for me to quit.”

Mathias sighed. “It certainly would have been useful to have that information, so we could be prepared for a wider range of outcomes. I don’t know that it would have had any impact on the invasion plan.”

Varian knew what he was getting at. If they’d known, it would have put the entire process into a holding pattern while they waited for their best magic users to come up with some way to disable the portal without disrupting its major power source. Most likely, it simply couldn’t have been done. Even if they had managed to disable the portal in such a way, they would then have to figure out how the captives were being held in order to replicate it, and they would have to designate some forces to stand guard for the duration of the campaign. Even then, there would still be the risk of the portal being taken again.

At least they knew who they were up against. Varian sighed. “Is there anything else?”

“We’ve confirmed that the Shadowmoon orcs are working with the Iron Horde,” Amber said. “There is some question about how willing the cooperation is. They might be a weak link, if we can strike quickly enough.”

“Good. I’ll have the officers stationed here investigate as soon as construction is finished.” Varian made a mental note of it, the first of many as Shaw continued with the briefing. He doubted that anything like a _weak_ link would be allowed to exist in the Iron Horde and its allies. However, if his agents believed there was strife between the leaders, that was encouraging. Orcs were prone to infighting, but it was probably too much to hope that the new army would crumble under its own weight. If they went for the leaders, other orcs would fight their way to the top and renew the attack with increased ferocity. A straightforward attack was never the best way to handle orcs, whether they were alone or in groups. They would have to assault the Iron Horde from all sides, taking out its allies and chipping away at its foundations until it crumbled.

* * *

 

Sneaking past the orc fortress had been a harrowing ordeal, completed in the dead of night. Without being able to risk a torch, Anduin had been convinced that at any moment he would feel the ground crumbling beneath him and he would topple down off the path and give away their position. Even though the road was relatively well maintained, there were enough loose stones to make it seem like a very real possibility. To make matters worse, the path curved in on itself and wound its way through a tangled forest of thorny plants. It would have been impossible to leave the road, should they encounter enemies along the way. The thorns would have ripped all but the most cautious of travelers to shreds.

Just when Anduin was beginning to worry that the path would bring them right to the front gates of the fortress, they found a fork in the road. One path led North, back toward the fortress, and the other went in the opposite direction. They followed it as quickly as they could, eager to put as much distance between them and the orc army as possible. The path sloped downward after that. Anduin abandoned the branch he’d been toting around as a cane, in the dark it seemed more likely to trip him up than help him. His first few steps without it were slow and tentative. Wrathion looked back at him, made an impatient noise, and to Anduin’s surprise, climbed back up to offer him an arm.

“Here,” he said, staring blankly ahead without acknowledging Anduin’s confusion. “I would hate to see you take another fall.”

Anduin started to refuse, but his foot slipped at that moment and sent him stumbling. He grabbed Wrathion’s arm in a panic and would have brought them both down if Wrathion hadn’t been stronger than the average human. He planted his feet on the slope and held steady until Anduin could get his balance again.

“Sorry about that,” said Anduin sheepishly. “And thanks.”

It was always a surprise to him how warm Wrathion was. Even through his clothes, he was radiating enough heat to warm the air around him. Anduin unconsciously moved closer. It had been like summer in Talador, but either the seasons were changing or the climate in the Spires was just vastly different, because the temperature had been dropping since sundown. It wasn’t yet uncomfortable, just different from what he’d become used to. When he caught himself trying to press into Wrathion’s side, he moved quickly away again. Wrathion didn’t like having people in his space, he didn’t want to intrude on it more than he had to.

When they reached the bottom of the hill, Anduin realized he could smell the sea. It wasn’t the fresh ocean air that he remembered from Stormwind, which sometimes made its way up as far as the castle in the early mornings. It was a strong smell of salt water and marine plants, like the harbor at low tide. The smell was familiar enough to stop him dead in his tracks. Wrathion kept going, only to be jerked back by Anduin’s hold on his arm.

“What?” he whispered, looking around for danger. “What do you see?”

“Nothing, it’s okay,” Anduin said. “Let’s go that way, come on.” The mountain looming to the West of them was ominously tall, and there were lights glowing at the peak of it. That was obviously a hub of some kind for the flighted arakkoa, and it didn’t look like a safe place to be wandering. He would much rather go down to the shore.

“Why would we?” Wrathion asked. “There’s nothing over there but the ocean, and I smell rylaks.”

Up until then, they’d managed to avoid seeing any rylaks up close. They weren’t an uncommon sight in the skies, and back in Talador they could be seen flying overhead every now and then. Meren had told Anduin that orcs tamed them and used them to travel or send mail over long distances. During their first hours in the Spires, they had come across an abandoned nest, littered with eggshells and the remains of animals. It had set something of a precedent for the group’s collective opinion of the creatures. Some of the bones in the nest were large enough to have come from a human, and nobody wanted to be carried off as hatchling food.

“There are rylaks everywhere,” Anduin reminded him. “They won’t attack us if we don’t get too close to them.” He hoped that was true. “I feel like it’s safer that way. We can come back later if you want, I just don’t think we should go near that mountain right now. We don’t know anything about the arakkoa living there.”

As if to confirm his gut feeling, a loud screech echoed from the top of the mountain. All the hair on Anduin’s body stood on end, the sound waking a deep, primal fear. Whatever made that noise, it was a predator, and it was big. Bigger even than the giant birds they’d seen in Nagrand. It went on and on, and when it finally died out, his ears were ringing and his legs shaking.

Wrathion cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said casually. “I can see in the dark and wouldn’t have any problems navigating the slopes, but I have the rest of you to consider. We’ll go your way.”

The path leveled out into a small field, sloping down into a swamp. The amount of open space was disorienting after spending the day and much of the night navigating narrow paths. Anduin could hear animals moving out in the mire, splashing through the water, digging and sometimes making sounds at each other.

“I see a herd of riverbeasts,” Wrathion said quietly, staring out at the swamp. “Farther out, at least one hydra. And the swamp is covered with mushrooms, so there’s probably fungus creatures too. Not too bad, all things considered.”

Anduin would have preferred it if he hadn’t said anything. He could have pretended that he was hearing frogs or snakes splashing about in the water. “Let’s just find somewhere to sleep.”

“Over here,” Right called. Anduin couldn’t see her, and her voice floating out of the darkness ahead made him jump. He followed a chuckling Wrathion and found her standing by a small opening in the rocks. “There’s a cave in there. It’s not big, but we’ll all fit and Left says it’s sturdy enough not to collapse.”

Left popped her head out of the opening. It was low enough that she had to navigate it on all fours. “I checked for animals, it’s all clear.”

She vanished back inside, Right followed her. Not wanting to be the last one left outside, Anduin hastily pulled his bag off and crouched by the opening. He pushed his bag in first so it wouldn’t catch on anything, then crawled in after it. The tunnel was small, but not long. It widened out after a few feet. He pulled himself the rest of the way inside and sat blinking in the darkness. His eyes were straining to adjust, but there wasn’t enough light to see by no matter how hard he tried. He looked back at the opening and stared at the slightly lighter patch of darkness to convince his eyes that he hadn’t suddenly gone blind.

Wrathion followed him, his dragon form fitting easily through the entrance. “Good find,” he said happily. “Very cozy.”

Anduin laughed, then realized that Wrathion probably wasn’t joking. A small, hidden cave must be a dragon’s idea of the perfect home. Wrathion’s room at the tavern had been cave-like too, tucked away under the staircase and lit only by small lamps. Anduin had only been in it a few times to play games, and he’d managed to knock something over each time, just because he hadn’t been able to see.

He’d been curled up against the cave wall, because he wasn’t sure how much space he had or where the others were, but his leg was starting to protest so he slowly stretched it out. He bumped someone’s bag, and heard one of the others shift to make room for him, but nobody complained. Giving up on trying to see, he closed his eyes and tried to make himself comfortable. The sounds from outside were muffled by the rock, and without any way to orient himself it almost felt like he was floating in a void somewhere. He didn’t like it, but told himself it was only for one night and forced himself to concentrate on happy things.

* * *

 

 He was back in Stormwind, walking past the Cathedral with Wrathion. The sun was out, and all the colors of the city seemed especially bright. The buildings looked clean, the trees were all the lush green of early spring. Anduin could see people in the distance going about their daily business, but they were somehow indistinct. He couldn’t pick out any faces, and wherever he and Wrathion went, it was just the two of them there. They passed behind the church, and he was surprised to see that the guards who normally patrolled the courtyard were missing. In fact, now he thought of it, he hadn’t seen a single city guardsman since they got here.

Maybe it was for the best. If any guards saw Wrathion, there would probably be trouble. That thought didn’t bother him as much as it should have, but it did make him stop and think. How had they gotten into the city? He didn’t remember arriving. The last thing he remembered was… Pandaria? No, he’d left there. They had gone to Draenor.

He didn’t notice his surroundings blurring until he felt a hand squeezing his. “Is something the matter, Anduin?” Wrathion asked, but his voice echoed slightly as if Anduin was hearing it through a tunnel.

The idea that he was dreaming occurred to him. It faded in and out, as if his dream didn’t want him to remember it. When he looked behind him he saw that the layout of the streets had changed, so it was no longer familiar. Closing his eyes, he did his best to relax and bring the dream back into form. Just because he knew he was dreaming, that didn’t mean he had to to wake up. Sometimes if he tried, he could stay in the dream and keep it from changing.

He opened his eyes again and smiled at Wrathion. What had they been doing? Even if he knew it wasn’t real, feeling Wrathion’s hand in his was making his stomach jump. Deciding that they had been taking a walk down to the harbor, because it seemed like a good day for it, he started walking again and tried not to think too much about it when the road passed by buildings he didn’t recognize. That was just how dreams were, and if he thought about it too hard he would wake up. Instead, he started talking about all the work that had gone into building the harbor, how his father had worked on the plans for weeks with the city architect, and how he could see the boats arriving and departing from the window of his room in the castle.

Somehow they ended up at the viewing area overlooking the harbor, walking hand-in-hand past the fountain to the very edge. A big steamship was getting ready to cast off and sail for Northrend, all the sailors rushing about to prepare it looked tiny from such a distance. Anduin sat down to watch, his feet hanging off the wall. There was something he liked about seeing the world from such a height. He could see farther from here than from any other place in the city, past the lighthouse, past all the ships, all the way out over the sea to the horizon. When he was younger, looking out so far spoke of adventure, of new places and people to be discovered. Now he knew what was across the ocean, he had been to Kalimdor and Pandaria, but he still felt the spirit of adventure most strongly here, when he was in a place he considered home.

Wrathion sat next to him and slung one arm over his shoulders. Anduin leaned into him and sighed happily. Someday he’d take Wrathion sailing on one of these ships, and they could visit Darnassus or the Exodar, or-

Something knocked into his legs, and he woke up with a jolt of pain. His head swirled with confusion as he remembered where he was. It was still night, still too dark to see anything, but he could hear a rapid scrabbling sound coming from the tunnel. One of the others must have heard it too, because someone moved at the far end of the cave.

“I’ll go get him.” It was Left, and she was speaking so softly Anduin had to strain to hear. “You wait here with the prince. Don’t wake him.”

She pushed past him carefully and was gone out the tunnel. Should he do something? Using what little information he had, Anduin worked out what had happened. Wrathion had woken up, or more likely he’d already been awake, and for some reason he had bolted out of the cave, tripping himself up over Anduin’s legs in the process. Left and Right seemed to know what was happening, judging by how quickly Left had decided what to do. They probably had everything under control, and he supposed it was considerate of them to avoid bothering him, but if something was wrong…

Deciding that he would feel bad about simply going back to sleep when something was happening, he whispered “I, uh, I’m actually awake.”

“I thought you might be,” said Right, after so long a pause that he thought she might be ignoring him. “Almost anyone would wake up after getting trampled like that.”

She didn’t offer any information, so after an uncomfortable minute of waiting, Anduin sat up. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” Right said firmly. “Left and I can handle it.”

_They’re only doing what they’re used to_ , Anduin reminded himself. Right had been working with Left to support Wrathion for a long time, longer than Anduin had even known him. They were a team, they knew how to handle Wrathion’s moods, often they knew what he was going to ask of them before he said anything. It wouldn’t even occur to them that he might want to help, that concerning himself with Wrathion wasn’t an imposition but was actually something he wanted to do.

“Is it okay if I go out to make sure?” Anduin asked, feeling around in the space beside him for his boots. “I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.” He was going to go no matter what she said, he just felt like he should tread carefully in the space that Right and Left had built around Wrathion.

“If you have to.” Right’s dispassionate tone was offset by the speed with which she got up from her resting place. “I’ll go with you.”

After a brief struggle with his boots in the dark, Anduin hurried out of the cave. Outside, the moon had come up. The light it provided was faint but compared to conditions inside it was like a torch right in his face, and he had to stop and let his eyes adjust to seeing things again. Wrathion and Left hadn’t gone far. They were only a few feet away, Wrathion on the ground in his dragon form and Left crouching next to him, talking quietly. They both looked over as Anduin approached. Wrathion immediately lifted his wings and curled in on himself.

“I told you not to wake him,” said Left with a reproachful stare at Right, who had come up behind Anduin. He sounded very out of breath.

Anduin took another step closer, taking in Wrathion’s appearance with growing worry. “I was already awake,” he lied. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Nothing happened. I just wanted to go outside for a minute.” Wrathion slowly shifted into human form, but remained curled over, with his head resting on his knees. He shut his eyes as if to block everyone out. His breath was coming in rough gasps, with no sign of calming.

Making sure to keep his movements obvious and avoiding excessive noise, Anduin closed the rest of the distance between them. He reached out and put his hand on Wrathion’s shoulder. Wrathion jumped, but didn’t attempt to brush him off. Closing his eyes, Anduin cast a basic healing spell. He let the light illuminate Wrathion, without any specific intent, just illuminating. If Wrathion were hurt somewhere, this kind of spell would detect it, and bring it to his attention so he could focus in on the injury specifically. However, Wrathion did not seem to be hurt anywhere. His heart was racing and his muscles were tense as if in response to an injury, but there was nothing.

Anduin frowned. He’d seen this sort of thing before. Negative emotions could sometimes have physical effects, especially in times of elevated stress. Wrathion had been on edge for weeks, it made sense that something would have to give eventually. Unfortunately, Anduin’s healing magic was focused on physical wounds. There wasn’t much he could do here, except stay with Wrathion until it was over. He kept the spell up anyway, because it felt better than doing nothing, and because it would help give Wrathion something else to focus on.

“Has this happened before?” He didn’t want to press Wrathion, but it felt like something important for him to know.

Wrathion shook his head.

“Yes,” said Right at the same time.

“How often?” Anduin asked her. He needed to know how much he’d missed, had he been blind to a major problem this entire time?

“Not very.” She looked off to the side, thinking back. “Once at that Draenei’s house. Once or twice at the Veiled Stair. Never this bad.”

“Traitor,” Wrathion mumbled.

Dawn was coming, Anduin noticed. While he’d been sitting with Wrathion, one side of the sky had lightened almost imperceptibly. That was a relief. Nothing ever seemed as bad in daylight. His hand on Wrathion’s back moved in calming circles while his healing spell flickered after it. He couldn’t be sure if he was helping or if things were just running their course, but slowly Wrathion’s breathing began to even out, and his muscles relaxed one by one. Eventually he stood and made his way back into the cave without a word. Anduin thought he was going to insist that they keep moving, but he didn’t come back out again.

Inside it was barely any lighter than it had been in the middle of the night. When Anduin stuck his head in to check on Wrathion, he could barely make out the shape of him lying against the back wall.

“Wrathion?” he called. “Do you want us to come back in with you?”

“Do what you want,” Wrathion answered. It was the first full sentence he’d spoken in hours, so Anduin took it as a good sign.

He crawled the rest of the way inside. “Make room for me, then.” Settling down near the entrance, he tried to make himself comfortable again. “Let me know if you want to talk or anything.”

“I don’t.” Wrathion rolled to face the wall. “My head hurts. Please don’t make any noise.”

Anduin sat uncertainly for a long time. Wrathion looked and sounded miserable, perhaps it would be best to leave him in peace. He hadn’t been told to leave though, and it wouldn’t feel right to go out into the sunshine and let Wrathion stay in the darkness by himself after everything that had just happened. The last thing Wrathion needed was to feel alone.

In the end, he would up staying in the cave long past the point where Wrathion’s breathing evened out into the slow whisper of sleep. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of struggled with this chapter. Hopefully it doesn't show.

Wrathion slept through the morning, and well into the afternoon. It wasn’t a calm sleep, it was interrupted frequently by half-formed dreams and clumsy readjustments. He couldn’t seem to keep hold of his appearance, alternating between his human and dragon forms depending on the shape of his dreams. Each time he woke, Anduin was sitting across from him, looking at him and whispering that everything was okay. Replying would have been hard, he didn’t have it in him to tell Anduin that no, nothing was okay. It was easier just to curl back up and sleep again. He was finally forced awake by the growing awareness that he was starving. He had been noticing it for a while, each time he drifted toward consciousness, but it had just gone from a background problem to an unavoidable priority.

The second thing he noticed was that Anduin was gone, and he was alone in the cave. That in itself was enough to spur him into action, the irrational thought that he’d been left behind thundering around his head despite his best efforts to banish it. Left and Right would never leave him. They had been with him practically since the moment he’d hatched. He was sure they were just outside, and where would Anduin be, if not with them? There, he’d even left his bag inside, he would have to come back for that if nothing else. Still, the tunnel allowed very little light and sound to come into the cave. It was very quiet, and very still. Exactly the sort of place where it was easy to forget that anything existed outside and get lost in his own thoughts.

Better to go outside, he decided. Not to make sure everyone was still there, he knew they were, just to…. Just to see. See what they’d all been doing today, see if there was anything for him to eat. He got up and stretched, pleased to note that his wingspan took up almost all the open space in the cave. Then he walked over to the tunnel and left, deliberately taking his time, no rushing. Despite that precaution, the sensation of his claws scraping on the stone took him back, just for a moment, to way he’d felt that night. Stifled, sick, like he could never draw enough breath, like he was going to die.

When he was out, he sat down off to the side of the entrance as quickly as he could. _Steady_ , he told himself. It was ridiculous to get worked up. His heart was pounding, and nothing had even happened.

“You’re awake!” Anduin waved at him from a short distance away, he was sitting by a small campfire with his journal out. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, I feel fine,” Wrathion lied. He jumped into the air and flapped a couple times, not gaining enough altitude to be in danger from the wind, but allowing himself to glide over to Anduin rather than walking. “Where are Left and Right?” He could contact them with their gems and ask, but for some reason he balked at the idea. The spell was a simple one and required almost no energy to use, and yet he felt like it would take an unimaginable effort to get it working.

“Right is over there,” Anduin said, pointing at a spot about twenty feet away, near the road. “Left went to look around.”

“I see.” Wrathion settled down next to Anduin. He had more questions. Had anything happened while he was sleeping? What was Left looking for? Those could wait, however. “I’m hungry,” he announced.

“We thought you might be.” Anduin rummaged around in a bag that Wrathion recognized as Left’s, and eventually pulled out a large chunk of charred meat, wrapped in some long grass to keep it away from the rest of the bag's contents. “Left killed a boar, this is part of it.” He grimaced. Anduin, like many humans, was a bit of a picky eater. He recognized the necessity of hunting the wildlife in Draenor but was still reluctant to consume any of the spoils. He took particular issue with the boars, and claimed that nothing that was good to eat had spikes growing out of it. All that mattered to Wrathion was that it was the right color. He tore into it appreciatively. Hopefully Left had stashed the rest of the boar somewhere safe, it would be a waste of effort to let it get carried away by scavengers.

When he finished eating, Anduin had gotten his journal back out and was writing something. Wrathion tried to lean so he could look over Anduin’s arm and see what it was, but Anduin noticed and tilted the pages away from him with a reproachful frown.

Fine then, he could be that way. “What are you working on?” Wrathion asked. It must be something important, there would otherwise be no reason to carry something as heavy as a book across a continent. And if it was important, then he couldn’t think of any reason not to share it. Important things were the business of the group.

“It’s private,” Anduin said, still glaring. Then his face softened a little. “I guess it doesn’t matter if you see this page, it’s only some observations about the sorts of animals we’ve seen living here.” He held the book out for Wrathion to look at.

Wrathion shifted back to his human form to get a better angle, leaning excitedly over Anduin’s shoulder. The book felt like a secret, and there was nothing he liked more than finding out peoples’ secrets. The first thing that stood out to him was a sketch of a rylak. Not a very good sketch, objectively speaking, but it was recognizable for what it was and had a certain sort of clumsy charm to it. Next to the sketch was a short paragraph about the beasts, what Anduin had learned about them so far and where he’d seen them in the wild. Anduin had good handwriting, he noticed. Maybe that was something they had royals practice in Stormwind.

There were similar pieces on the rest of the page for other animals, like the hydras and riverbeasts out in the swamp. Some of the paragraphs had similar little drawings, others didn’t. Wrathion couldn’t figure out any reason to leave some creatures out, so he concluded that the sketches must not be an important component of the project, but were just something that Anduin did when he felt like it. “Is the rest of the book like this?” he asked. It was far from an official survey, but he could see the use in documenting something like this.

“Not really,” Anduin replied. He sounded hesitant. “I do have pages like this for Talador and Nagrand, and I’ll probably keep writing them for other places we go, but most of the stuff in here isn’t like that. There isn’t a lot, I haven’t had the time for it since we got here, but all the same, I’d rather not show it to you.”

“If your book isn’t meant to be read, then what’s the point?” Wrathion asked. He knew adventurers kept journals, and those were often filled with spectacular tales of wild creatures they’d conquered. But when those got filled up, they were put in personal libraries, or even public ones, and other adventurers were allowed to look at them for information if they were planning an expedition to the same areas. He’d never heard of an adventuring journal that wasn’t supposed to be looked at.

He’d made Anduin uncomfortable. He put the journal aside and shifted around self-consciously, avoiding eye contact. “There isn’t a point,” he said defensively. “I just think it’s useful. You can think it’s stupid if you want.”

“I don’t know what I think it is,” Wrathion said. “If nobody is meant to see it, why are you writing it down at all? Someone could pick it up without knowing that they aren’t meant to look at it, what then?”

“That is possible.” Anduin shrugged. “But it wouldn’t be the end of the world, and writing things down helps me think things through, so I’m not dwelling on them. You should try that sometime, I think there’s a lot you’re bottling up.”

“I think just fine, thank you.” Something moved up the slope, capturing his attention for a moment. He sat up and stared, them relaxed when he saw that it was only Left. She sped up a little when she saw him, no doubt she would have something to report to him after being gone for… well, he didn’t know how long she had been gone, but she was a capable agent. It would have been long enough. What had he been talking about? Oh, yes. “Besides, Prince Anduin, you are the only one here in possession of such tools.”

Anduin sighed. “I know. I just wish you’d talk to someone. If not me, then Right or Left. I’m worried about you, after what happened last night.”

Wrathion’s stomach clenched, the meat he’d eaten suddenly felt like a stone in his gut. “I don’t want to think about it,” he said firmly. “It’s better to let go of things and move on.”

“Well sure, but I don’t feel like that’s what you’re doing.” Anduin looked so concerned, it made him want to crawl back into the cave. “Listen, Wrathion, it’s okay if you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared of anything!” It came out much louder than he’d anticipated. Anduin jumped, and he felt a little bad for startling him, but he continued all the same. “Everything I was ever frightened of has been eliminated, and I was the one to make sure of it! I know what I’m doing, so stop looking at me like I’m a hopeless case.” His momentum ran out with his breath, and he slumped. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

Everyone, he realized, was staring at him. Left had stopped in her slow walk back to camp and looked uncertain about whether to stay or go, Right had heard him from her watch location and had lost focus on her hiding. Anduin’s eyes were wide, but he was remarkably composed considering that he’d just had someone yelling in his face. Wrathion scratched at the ground with one claw, drawing his body in and closing his eyes against the shame. He prided himself on never losing control, so why did it keep happening? He stood up and turned away.

“I’m going back inside.” He didn’t want to speak anymore, but he raised his voice slightly to make himself heard. “Left, you come with me, I’m interested to hear about what you were investigating.” He stalked back toward the cave without looking back, trusting that Left would be there behind him.

* * *

  
Anduin watched Wrathion vanish back into the cave, brow furrowed with worry. It seemed like Wrathion's episode overnight hadn’t been a release of tension, just an expression of it. Wrathion was no better off than he’d been before. He heard Right coming up behind him and got up to greet her, deciding that following Wrathion into the cave would just invite an argument. If possible, he wanted to solve the problem without fighting.

“I heard yelling,” Right said, looking curiously at the cave entrance.

“Yeah, I guess he wasn’t ready to talk.” Anduin spread his arms out helplessly. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Right said. “He’s just not used to it. He handles his problems by doing things. Don’t be angry at him.”

“I’m not angry.” Anduin wondered how he’d given her the impression that he was. “I just want to be there for him, and I wish there was some way I could be without us shouting at each other.”

Right didn’t say anything to that, and her silence was almost as frustrating as Wrathion’s. Anduin liked to think that he was pretty good with people, but he wasn’t a mind reader. He had an especially hard time reading Right and Left. Did they even agree that there was a problem that needed addressing? Had she understood that he was asking for help? There were things that Wrathion said and did that still confused him. If he didn’t understand, anything he tried to do to help would be relying on luck.

“I don’t think this is a problem that he can chase off or destroy,” Anduin said as neutrally as possible. Right made a noncommittal noise in response, and that was it for his patience. “Listen, Right, I need some help here.” He stepped around her until he was back in her field of vision. “I haven’t known him as long as you have, and maybe there isn’t anything I can do, but I like him a lot and I don’t want to just stand around and let you and Left take care of things the way you always do. The situation is different, there isn’t a specific thing you can hunt down for him. What used to work isn’t going to work anymore.”

He realized he was pacing and stopped in front of Right, looking at her imploringly. She was at least considering what he’d said, she would have walked away if she wasn’t, but he had no way of determining what she might do.

“He’s very concerned with how people see him,” she said eventually. She looked up and shot him a sharp glare. “Especially you. If I had to guess, I would say that he wants to avoid talking to you about it because he wants you to forget it ever happened.”

“Can you try talking to him, then? Or can Left?” Anduin asked. “He might be more willing to…” He trailed off. Right was shaking her head.

“Our jobs are very simple,” she said. “We watch out for threats, and we take care of anything he asks us to. It frees him up to handle the bigger things. I have known him since he hatched, but I am not his parent or his friend. I am a guard. What you are suggesting would be overstepping many boundaries.”

Anduin frowned. She was lying to him, and he couldn’t decide if he was going to call her out on it. It was true that Left and Right were not friends with Wrathion in the usual sense, but if she was trying to make him believe that they only cared about his well-being because he was their boss, then she was fighting a losing battle. The three of them were very close, no matter how much any of them pretended otherwise. Arguing with her reasoning probably wouldn’t change her mind, so he decided to drop that line of conversation. It was still up to him, then. That, however, did not necessarily mean that Right wouldn’t help him at all.

“I understand why you won’t talk to him,” he said. “But can you try to keep an eye on him for me? Not to intrude on his personal business or anything, I don’t want to be invasive, just… what you’re already doing. And if you think that he might be about to have another meltdown, will you tell me?”

“Left and I have been watching out for them since the first time it happened,” Right said quietly. “There is very little correlation between their occurrences and what is going on around him, so I am not certain what you would do with that knowledge.”

“What do you do with it?” Anduin asked. He’d never been able to get Right to talk to him about the specifics of her work before, he was interested to know how much she and Left did for Wrathion behind the scenes.

Despite being open to conversation, Right was still hesitant to answer questions. She crossed her arms and looked him over. Anduin sighed. Weren’t they finished evaluating him yet? It always felt like they were measuring him to some invisible standard, and he wasn’t even sure why.

“Look, I’m not going to do anything weird with what you tell me,” he said. “I was just curious. You don’t have to answer me, but since we’re all stuck together, isn’t it nicer if we trust each other?”

Right shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t trust anybody except Left. And we don’t do anything when we see His Majesty start slipping. There isn’t anything we can do. We just wait for it to happen and then help him move forward from it.”

So none of them were communicating at all, and they were all resigned to a routine that benefited nobody. Anduin was starting to see the problem. Wrathion was stubborn, wary of others, and prone to high levels of stress. He surrounded himself with people who were just like him. Maybe those were shared personality traits of rogues, he didn’t know. All he knew for sure was that they were all feeding into each other. Left and Right were okay, possibly because all they had to worry about was following orders, but Wrathion styled himself the leader, and neither of his closest companions were doing a single thing to help him manage the pressure.

Wrathion emerged from the cave at that moment, so he didn’t have a chance to untangle it any further. “Left’s just filled me in on what she’s learned about this area,” Wrathion announced. “I’d like to stay here for a while longer to investigate some things I think may be significant, although I would like to try finding a campsite a little further away from the road.”

“That’s fine,” Anduin said. Staying so close to the road was making him a little nervous too. It was well-maintained enough that he knew it must be in regular use. Every time things got quiet, he imagined that he could hear marching feet approaching their campsite, and had to stop what he was doing to listen closely. More than once, he’d actually begun the process of gathering up his things and getting out of sight before realizing that he’d just been hearing rocks falling in the distance or an animal digging around in the marsh. “What do you want to investigate?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Wrathion gestured excitedly at Left, who pulled a piece of crumpled paper out of a pocket on her vest and spread it out on the ground.

Anduin moved in to look, smiling despite himself. Wrathion’s theatrics were always funny, even if he suspected they weren’t genuine. The paper had been torn out of a book, and there was a rough sketch of the area scribbled over the words. Several places had been circled, all of them higher up in the mountains.

“Left found shrines to an unknown entity at each of these locations,” Wrathion explained. “We don’t know for sure if this is related to the curse that seems to have befallen some of the locals, but it’s a good place to start. I’d like to take a look at one of them, more than one if possible. She reports that many are in very difficult to access places.” He briefly glanced at Anduin, then looked away again.

They all knew who would be the least likely to be able to reach those places. He knew Wrathion was trying not to call attention to it, and really didn’t resent him for bringing it up, it was just annoying. Trying not to slow the group down had been Anduin’s primary concern for most of the trip, but it seemed like the universe enjoyed challenging that resolve.

“It’s all right,” he said. “If we find a place to stop that’s not too far from all the sites, I can wait there while the rest of you go to look at them. You’ll get more done that way.” Hearing the logic from his own voice was almost worse than making Wrathion say it.

Wrathion looked down at Left’s sketched map and back up at Anduin several times before answering. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you by yourself somewhere,” he said carefully. “I’m sure we could find a safe place, but if we went too far you would be on your own if something were to happen. And, no offense, but you don’t really blend in.”

He did have a point, Anduin admitted, looking down at his outfit. Golds and blues stood out against the muted colors that made up the landscape in this part of Draenor. There wasn’t much cover higher up either, all the plants gave up about halfway up the slopes and left the remainder of the spires uncovered. 

“Let’s just start moving,” he suggested. “I want to get away from the road too, we can talk about details once we’ve done that.”

* * *

  
Danger or not, Wrathion eventually had to admit that Anduin would need to wait somewhere. If they’d come equipped with climbing gear, Anduin could possibly have made it up to some of the ledges that he would need to navigate to keep up in the high country. As it was, he was stuck on level ground, so they turned their attention to finding a safe place for him. Unfortunately, getting away from the road turned out to be easier said than done. In many places, the roads curving around the mountains represented the only place where it was safe to travel in foot.  In the end, they had to settle for a hiding spot uncomfortably near a turn in the path, a smallish crevice surrounded by sharp spikes of rock which was relatively isolated.

“I still don’t like this,” Wrathion said. “You don’t have a lot of cover here.”

“I shouldn’t need any,” Anduin answered. “As long as I’m quiet, there’s no way anything will know that I’m here.” Getting into the crevice had been a tall order, involving Left giving him a boost so he could tumble over the edge of the rocks. Now he was completely walled in, and wasn’t at all certain he would be able to get out again. The tentative plan was that he would take his travel blanket and sling it up between the rocks to create a hide, in which he would be safe from the view of aerial predators.

Theoretically, he would be fine. His blanket was a light, sandy gray color, different from the rocks but hopefully not different enough to attract attention. He didn’t have plans to move around or shout, so the animals in the area wouldn’t have any incentive to pay attention to him. Most importantly, he was completely out of sight from the road. Nobody walking past here would think to check it, unless they already knew that this crevice existed. All the same, now that he was actually going to be left alone in the wilderness, he wasn’t sure he was up for it. They’d split the group before, sent Left or Right out to scout for things, or just gone separate ways within the vicinity of a campsite, but this was different. He’d always had someone with him, or at least within earshot. The first of the sites Wrathion wanted to look at was nearly half a mile away, and there was no way he could shout over that distance with so many rocks to break up the noise.

They’d also decided against the idea of him having some kind of visual signal. Wrathion had almost insisted on it, but had backed down once he’d been convinced that a waving flag or something similar would be likely to draw the attention of the local rylaks, and would only be effective for a slightly longer distance than a shout. Instead, Wrathion had produced a dark cloak from his bag and insisted that Anduin take it. It was too big for him, but it covered up the bright colors of his clothes and provided him some sense of security.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to check back with you between sites?” Wrathion asked, for what had to be the tenth time that hour.

No, he wasn’t sure. He had been before. Wrathion had five sites he wanted to look at, and only a few of them were near enough that retracing his steps wouldn’t be a waste of time. It would be faster they just went from site to site, and then returned when they were finished. Logically, it would be counterproductive if everyone came back after examining each site to make sure he hadn’t been carried off by a rylak. Anduin had been sure that he would be fine on his own, but now that it was time to actually go through with his idea he hesitated.

Wrathion picked up on his uncertainty. “It really wouldn’t take up too much time,” he said. “And I know we want to get this done in a day, but if we have to make camp somewhere and pick the investigation back up tomorrow, that would be fine. I want to get this done, but your safety is more important.”

After another brief pause, Anduin shook his head. If he wound up needing help, it was highly unlikely that the others would arrive in time to provide it, even if they were checking in on him regularly. The only purpose that such visits would serve would be reassurance for him that he hadn’t been left all alone in the wilderness, and he didn’t really need that. Wrathion hadn’t put him with him tagging along this far just to drop him somewhere and leave. If anything, Wrathion was the one needing the most reassurance. He wanted to come back and check on Anduin now and then, to make sure he was still alive.

“I’ll be fine,” Anduin told him. Offering Wrathion some measure of that reassurance in advance couldn’t hurt. “Just hurry up and get your sleuthing done before it gets dark, I don’t feel like staying here overnight.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but Wrathion’s expression darkened. “We will be back long before then, regardless of whether or not we’ve finished.” He lifted one corner of Anduin’s blanket. “Do you need help putting this up?”

There were several spots Anduin could easily reach where small shrubs or stone spikes offered places to anchor the blanket. He didn’t really need help, it would take longer to create the hide by himself but he could certainly do it without any difficulty. Wrathion seemed to want badly to be of some help though, so he nodded his agreement and let Wrathion direct him on where he should tie the corners. Wrathion even took one end of it and flew up to a ledge that he wouldn’t have been able to reach, to secure that corner so it would be higher up than the others.

“This should keep the wind from blowing your shelter away,” he explained. “We shouldn’t be gone longer than a few hours. Just stay quiet, and don’t get into any trouble.”

“That goes for you too,” Anduin told him, forcing a smile. “Come back safe. If you run into trouble, I won’t know where to start looking for you.”

Wrathion nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end he turned away and flew over the rock wall without another word. Left and Right lingered for a minute longer. Each of them pulled a throwing dagger out of their belt sheaths and passed them over.

“I hope you won’t need to use them,” Left said. “But just in case.”

Anduin took them carefully, mindful of the sharp blades as he set them within easy reach. “Thank you,” he said. “You two be careful too.”

They both gave him the Blacktalon salute, followed Wrathion over the rocks, and were gone, leaving Anduin alone.

For the first few minutes, he was fine. The others hadn’t gone into stealth mode yet, so he could hear their boots crunching on the gravel as they walked away. Eventually that slight sound faded, and he was fine then too. The sky was clear and bright, the sun would remain high overhead for hours and hours. Nothing around him was stirring aside from a few insects, and these were the small and harmless kind rather than the large aggressive kind that he’d seen nests of in the distance. He had plenty of water, and there was some dried meat in his bag. He had everything he needed to spend a perfectly comfortable afternoon by himself.

A gust a chilled wind blew overhead. Most of it was blocked by the rocks surrounding him on all sides, but some of it swirled around him and he shivered. He was _all alone_ for the first time in a long time, and even though nothing had changed around him, he felt an irrational spike of nerves. All the rock formations within sight seemed bigger and sharper somehow, and the slightest sound from outside his refuge conjured up images of fanged beasts creeping up on him. He cleared his throat and reached for his water. His mouth was feeling dry, all of a sudden. Maybe he should go into his hide and try to take a nap.

Inside, not much was different. The sounds from outside were muted, and he was out of the sun, but he still felt entirely exposed to anything that might be lurking nearby. Shaking his head, he reminded himself that Wrathion had done a thorough search of the area and declared that it was free from threats. It was silly to worry about something like that when he knew that this site saw little in the way of activity. Still, every living thing in the Spires could presumably walk, or fly, or otherwise move itself around. Just because there hadn’t been anything around when he’d arrived didn’t mean that there never would be.

_Stop being paranoid_ , he chided himself. _You’re as bad as Wrathion sometimes_. Worrying over things that hadn’t yet happened was only helpful up to a certain point, and he’d hit that point already. He was concealed from the skies, he was in a place where it would be difficult if not impossible for anything to sneak up on him, and he was armed. There was nothing more he could do to prepare himself for something to go wrong. Therefore, he had no more reason to worry. He just had to lie down and relax, and the day would go by before he knew it.

Two hours later, he had arranged the loose stones around and under his hide into a series of geometric patterns, eaten half that day’s rations, scribbled the start of a short story in his journal, lost count of how many rylak flocks he’d seen overhead, and was about ready to fade away from boredom. Stormwind castle often played host to adventurers from around the world, many of them claiming to be solitary travelers, and he decided then and there that he hadn’t been respecting them enough. Granted, he would be a little better off if he had something to do, but anyone who could spend weeks or months alone out in the wilds of Azeroth without losing their minds was worthy of celebration. Then again, he’d heard that most adventurers were slightly unhinged.

Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the sky, dimmed through the roof of his hide. Any minute now, the others would come back, and with any luck they would have found something worth pursuing. Any minute now.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter came out of nowhere 3 days ago so I just went with it. Meanwhile, I continue to stall on writing anything that requires major planning.

Anduin must have dozed off at some point, because he woke up several hours later to the sound of claws scraping on the rocks outside his hide. That must be the others getting in, although it struck him as strange that Wrathion hadn’t called out a greeting. Maybe he had, maybe that was what had woken him up. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, slightly disoriented by how much time had passed. It was getting dark, they would probably have to stay camped here for the night, unless the others had found a better location nearby on their way back. They sure had taken their time getting back.

Grinning, he crawled out of the hide to tease them about it. “What took you so long?” he asked. “I thought the point of me waiting here was to speed things up.”

A wild rylak stared down at him from its perch atop one of the rocks. Its claws dug into the stone again and it hissed at him. Anduin froze. Two distinct kinds of panic ran screaming through his mind, but he banished _the others aren’t back yet, something’s happened_ for the moment and dedicated his attention to the more pressing problem of _there’s a rylak here_. Normally they traveled in flocks, were there more nearby? He turned his head slowly to look around, and saw nothing. That didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t anything to see, and it wasn’t really reassuring at all either. One rylak was still one too many.

What should he do? It hadn’t attacked him yet, and that was something. It wasn’t one of the larger ones, the nest mothers, so that meant it wouldn’t be territorial or hunting to feed hatchlings. It wasn’t hunting for itself either, or it would have scooped him up while he was asleep. From the looks of things, it had just settled down on the rocks to rest and had been just as surprised to see him as he’d been to see it. If he handled the situation correctly, he might be able to avoid getting attacked. The key was to find some way to drive it off without making it angry.

Easier said than done. He had the knives Left and Right had given him, but his skills were more suited for hunting small game than for prolonged combat. The rylak was still watching him with its terrifying, predatory gaze. He desperately tried to remember the things he’d been taught about dealing with wild animals. In the face of the creatures of Draenor, all that advice seemed woefully inadequate. Make yourself look bigger. Wave your arms. Shout. Throw things. Try to scare it away. Unless it’s a bear, then play dead.

Well, this wasn’t a bear. He certainly wasn’t going to lie down and let it stay there to attack him later, so that left scaring it. He doubted that he looked at all frightening to a creature of that size, but he had to try something. Hesitantly he reached down and lifted one of the rocks littering the ground, the rylak watching his every move. He weighed the rock in his hand, took careful aim, and threw it as hard as he could. It struck the rock beneath the rylak’s feet and sent a shower of smaller pebbles tumbling down into the crevice. The rylak hissed and shifted its weight, raising its wings in alarm.

“Go on, get out of here!” Anduin shouted, sounding far more confident than he felt. He threw another rock. This one was less sturdy, and it shattered on impact with the rylak’s perch. It hissed again, lashing its tail and swaying its heads threateningly. Anduin held his ground and after a long, tense moment, the rylak flapped its wings once, twice, and then it pushed off from the rocks and flew away.

Easier than he’d expected, but still terrifying. Anduin sat heavily on the ground to catch his breath and try to calm his racing heart. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, there were other problems that he needed to address. Wrathion had sworn up and down that he would be back with Right and Left well before dark. The sun had set and there was only a slight trace of light left in the sky, so clearly something was wrong. Anduin had to decide what he was going to do about that. His first option was to stay where he was and hope that they had merely gotten delayed by something. Even the idea of Wrathion having another panic attack was preferable to the alternatives. If it was something that simple, then staying here was his best bet. Eventually, someone would come back to fetch him. On the other hand, if something bad had happened… He shuddered at the thought. If something bad had happened, then nobody would be back for him, and he would need to decide how long he was going to stay in this crevice.

More importantly, he would have to figure out how to get _out_. He had needed help to climb over the rocks getting in, and there had been more footholds on that side. If this was the worst case scenario, and nobody was coming back for him, then he was trapped here for the foreseeable future. That thought was almost as frightening as the thought of Wrathion and the others being captured by the Iron Horde, or falling from a cliff, or… really, there were hundreds of things that could have happened to them. He shouldn’t have stayed behind. They might have needed his healing, and starving to death surrounded by rocks that a stronger person could easily climb would be such a stupid way for him to die.

He would stay where he was for the night, he decided. It was getting to be too dark to see. In the daylight, he might be able to see a way out. Or maybe when he woke up in the morning the others would be back. It was a distant hope, but it was one that he clung to as he curled back up under the hide and tried to go back to sleep.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t. Every unidentified sound in the night took the form of Wrathion returning, every animal that passed by on the trail represented an immense threat. Anduin held as still as stone for hours, eyes closed, listening hard for the sound of footsteps and trying not to make any noise himself. It was a lot like his first night in Pandaria, when he’d fled from a sinking ship and escaped into the forest, believing all his guards and the rest of the crew to be dead. _I survived then, and I’ll survive now_ , he told himself. No matter how bad the situation, he had always gotten through it in the past. His grim resolve to survive no matter what happened carried him through to the morning.

* * *

 

 The Black Prince was still out cold. Left checked his pulse again, just to make sure it was still strong. If it wasn’t, there would be nothing she could do. The blow he’d taken in the back of the head would have killed him if he had been a human, or if he’d been younger and weaker. Left bared her teeth as a shadow crossed the entrance of the cave, but those outside remained there. This was her fault. She had been the one watching their backs. She should have seen the saberon coming, tracking them through the hills and waiting for an opportunity to strike. Their coats were almost exactly the same color as the rocks, and they had been downwind where the Prince could not smell them out. That had given them the slight advantage that they’d needed.

It was shameful for an orc to stand down in front of an enemy. Right kept reminding her that it was the best option, their biggest hope for keeping the Prince alive. The guilt of it was still gnawing at her guts. Rogues were already looked down upon by the majority of orcs, seen as cowards too weak to stand up for themselves in honorable combat. To surrender felt like an admission that they were right. Left had turned her back on her people many years ago, but she could not so easily turn her back on the ideals that had been etched into her mind from the moment of her birth.

“Any change?” Right asked her, momentarily shifting her attention away from the cave door.

Left shook her head. “He’s breathing well and his pulse is strong. That potion they fed him must be keeping him under.” The saberon had medicine men, and they’d had no choice but to let one of them tend to the Prince. Head injuries were dangerous even for a dragon, keeping him alive was a higher priority than slaughtering his enemies. Privately, Left felt that perhaps it was for the best that the Prince was kept unconscious. He would not like to see the predicament they were in.

“I wonder what they want from us,” Right said thoughtfully. A few times, they had heard the saberon outside arguing in their rough, snarling language. Once or twice, one of them had even started to come inside toward them. However, they had yet to see a distinct leader, and no attempts at direct communication had been made. The saberon must want _something_ from them, or else they would not be keeping them like this. Bones, scattered all around the pride’s home, told of a race which did not make a habit of keeping prisoners.

“Does it matter?” Left asked. “We won’t give it to them, whatever it is. If we’re lucky the Prince will shake off the potion and we can break out before they ever get around to making demands.”

Right frowned and shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. That injury looked pretty bad, and don’t they say you shouldn’t move someone who’s been hit on the head?”

“They moved him here,” Left pointed out. “If that causes damage, I think it’s been done already.”

They both looked down at the Prince with renewed worry. As long as he was unconscious, they would be unable to assess whether or not the blow would cause complications. Left had heard of warriors sustaining injuries like that, going home, behaving normally, and then dropping dead two days later. Neither of them was skilled in first aid, and she did not trust the saberon’s medicine man to do more than keep the Prince stable.

“Well,” Right said, breaking the gloomy atmosphere, “if there is damage, we should try not to make it worse. We can’t assume he’ll be able to fight or hide himself very well when he wakes.”

Left looked at her suspiciously. She was going somewhere with this, but she was avoiding the point. “What are you trying to say?” Left asked, already knowing that she would not like the answer.

Right sighed and squared her shoulders in determination. “One of us has to leave.” She held firm under Left’s disapproving glare. “I don’t like it any more than you do. We pledged to stay by his side and keep him safe, but I think that means more than just guarding him in the moment. One of us has to get out of here, test the weak points in their territory patrols. The other one can stay here and make sure that they don’t retaliate at the Prince.”

“And then what?” Left asked. “You lurk around the edges of their territory until you see an opening? Sabotage them? Poison their food?” It would be Right who would be escaping, if her plan amounted to anything. Left would not take any responsibility for it. “They would know it was you, and then they’d kill the Prince. Even saberon are smart enough to know he’s a valuable hostage.”

“There’s another thing,” Right said. “Prince Wrynn is still where we left him.” She gestured away in the vague direction of the hill he was hidden away on, trapped and by now most likely frightened. “I don’t claim to know what His Majesty thinks, but I’m sure he wouldn’t be happy with us if we left his friend to die.”

That was true. Left frowned down at the Prince, willing him to wake up and give them some direction. She and Right had made no promises to the Prince of Stormwind, and yet the Black Prince had been increasingly expecting them to behave as though protecting him was included as one of their responsibilities. He ordered them to guard Prince Anduin, to defend him during battle, to make sure that he had everything he needed to be comfortable so far from home. It would be touching if it wasn’t such a nuisance. Luckily for everyone involved, Prince Anduin clearly did not expect to be coddled, nor did he wish to be. She could respect that, and so she did not wish to leave him to his own devices.

“How are you planning to escape?” She asked finally. It was still unthinkable to her that Right would consider leaving while the Prince was in the state he was in, but she could not question the reasoning.

“Good question.” Right leaned back against the cave wall with her arms folded behind her head. It it hadn’t been for the ropes binding her legs to rings on the wall, she would have looked as casual as if she were relaxing after a long day on the job. “They took my knives away, so that makes it a little tricky. I can’t do anything about these ropes, but I was hoping you might be able to.” The saberon had taken their weapons, so they had no knives with which to cut free. Left still had her Orcish strength, however, and the ropes were old. If she applied enough force, she _might_ be able to snap them.

She lifted up one of her own bindings and inspected it carefully. “So I break you loose. What then?”

“What else do you need to know?” Right asked. “I sneak past the hundreds of saberon, go back to where we left Prince Anduin, bring him back here, and then create a distraction so you can get the Prince out safely. Couldn’t be easier.”

It sounded simple only because she was leaving out key details. “You won’t have your weapons,” Left pointed out. “We don’t know where they were taken, and we can’t risk you getting recaptured if you go to look for them. They don’t know I can break these ropes. Once they find out, they’ll secure us with something stronger, so if you get recaptured we’ll lose our chance. Even if you do get away, they’ll increase security on the Prince and me. When you get back with your distraction , I might not be able to free us.”

“Well, I’ll think of something.” Right didn’t like having the flaws in her idea pointed out, she scowled and curled in on herself. “I don’t hear you coming up with a plan.”

 _Plans aren’t my job_ , Left thought. She decided not to say it. Plans weren’t Right’s job either, and it wasn’t a perfect plan, but she had to admit that it was the best idea they had. “We wait until daybreak,” she conceded. “I’ll let you out as soon as most of the saberon have gone to sleep for the day. You had better talk to Prince Anduin and come up with one hell of a rescue plan.”

Most saberon were nocturnal, they had learned as much during their time in Talador, so Left had expected some downturn in the camp’s activity when the sun rose. What she hadn’t expected was for the cave that they were being held in to suddenly gain several new occupants. The pride was clearly at capacity, because every cave was full of saberon, even with a number of warriors staying up to continue guarding the territory. Four large warriors claimed the floor in their cave, sprawling out over each other and making it difficult to move without bumping into a leg or pinching a tail.

Also, making it nearly impossible to do something like breaking a rope without being noticed. She and Right had long since perfected the art of effortless silent communication, which was the only thing that made her feel like they could go through with the plan. Quietly, carefully, Right crept over the sleeping saberon until Left could grab hold of the ropes binding her. Then she moved slowly toward the cave mouth, stopping at once when Left signaled to her. She needed a certain amount of slack to grab onto to make severing the ropes easier. Hopefully it would be enough. There was no room for error, no time to waste breaking one rope at a time. She held both, made a few experimental tugs to test their strength, and then pulled as hard as she could to rip them off the wall.

The ropes gave with a loud snap, and Right staggered forward at the sudden release. The four saberon woke at once, springing to their feet in confusion. Left did her best to add to it by jumping up and striking one of the warriors in the face, doing anything she could to draw their attention away from Right, who was still very visible at the front of the cave. She earned a rough shove for her trouble, sending her stumbling back into the wall, but the few seconds of time she’d bought was all that Right needed. By the time the warriors fully comprehended that one of their captives was free, Right was nowhere to be seen.

One of the saberon roared something at her. She roared back, without words but with all the ferocity she could muster. Scrambling to her feet, she placed herself between the warriors and the Prince. If they thought they were going to get back at her by attacking two unarmed captives while one was unconscious, they were about to earn themselves one hell of a fight. Cowards, all of them. Instead of attacking, the saberon turned away from her and began talking amongst themselves. Left spat at them, knowing even as she did it that the act of defiance was stupid. She shouldn’t push her luck any father. Controlling her temper was one of the first things she’d been taught as a rogue, she would do well to remember it now. If she made them angry, they could easily bring in an even larger group of warriors and punish her by harming the Prince.

After a brief, growled conversation, two of the warriors turned and left the cave. The other two stayed, crossing their arms and staring down at her as if daring her to try breaking herself free. She didn’t have any way to tell them that they were wasting their time, she wasn’t going anywhere without the Prince. Even if she had been able to tell them as much, they wouldn’t believe her. Settling back down against the cave wall, she stared back at them without blinking. They couldn’t scare her, and she needed to make sure they knew it.

Was this it, then? They couldn’t stop her from breaking the ropes, but they they could put guards in the cave to stand watch over her? If that was all, then it would be laughably easy to escape once Right came back for them. The strength of the saberon came from their tendency to battle in large groups. Two guards in relative isolation would be a _challenge_ to fight, certainly. They were both very strong, she could see as much. It was just that she was stronger. She would have to focus on downing them one at a time, and make sure that nothing during the fight could distract her from that goal. If the Prince was conscious by that time, he might even be able to assist.

* * *

 

 Anduin woke early, and spent the first part of the morning walking the perimeter of the crevice. It was very small, only a few paces across and just slightly longer than it was wide. The side he’d entered from had the shortest rock wall. It was taller than he was, but just barely. If he jumped he could see over it, but the pain that had shot through his leg the moment he’d landed prevented him from doing it again. He would have to rely on his hearing to determine whether or not the coast was clear for his escape. The other rocks surrounding him were much taller. The back wall rose up into one of the spires of rock that gave the mountain range its name, the other three leveled out into relatively flat tops at least twenty feet over his head.

In a cruel twist of fate, the taller rocks all had numerous small cracks and ledges that could serve as footholds, should he feel compelled to climb them. He knew he did not have the ability to reach their tops, however. Perhaps if he climbed up one as far as he could go, and then tried jumping to the top of the shortest wall? He briefly imagined attempting that, then dismissed the idea entirely. He could easily break a rib if he landed wrong, and then where would he be? Healing magic took a lot of energy out of him still, and he wanted to save as much energy as he could for when he was free.

His next idea was to look through his possessions to see if he was carrying something that might help. Before departing from Stormwind he had packed a coil of rope, but without some way to attach it to anything it was all but useless. The rest of his things weren’t any better. Clothes, mostly. He’d wanted to be prepared for a variety of climates. A compass, his journal, some water purifying tablets in case a fire wasn’t an option… nothing that would help him climb up a sheer rock face.

Recently, he’d hit a point in his training where he was powerful enough to begin practicing levitation. However, he was not very good at it yet. He could only float himself about six inches off the ground, and so far he was not able to avoid hitting the ground if he was falling. If he were taller or stronger, he could use the extra height boost to get a grip on the top of the rock and pull himself over. Unfortunately, as it was, he could grab onto the edge and hang there for a minute, but he lacked the arm strength to pull himself up. _If I get out of this, I’m taking combat training back up_ , Anduin swore to himself. He'd lost a lot of strength during his recovery which he had yet to build back up.

All right, he could work with this. He could figure something out. While he thought, he got to work unfastening his blanket from the walls. Having something to work on sometimes helped speed his thoughts along, and leaving the hide up would be the same as admitting he was stuck. He was in the process of folding it up to stow back in his bag when the idea hit him.

Going back to where the blanket had been strung up, he tested each of the dead trees and rock formations it had been fastened to. Most of them wouldn’t support the weight of a human, but he didn’t need all of them to be that strong. He only needed two. The first support he tried, a scraggly bush growing out of a crack in the rock face, gave way when he tugged on it. A larger plant, more of a sapling than a bush, held fast even when he grabbed it with both hands and lifted his feet off the ground. Perfect. Near it was a ledge with several stone bumps on it, not quite low enough to be a useful handhold but perfect for his new idea. He wrapped the rope around one of those and hoped it wouldn’t pull loose. The other end he tied to the sapling’s trunk near the base. The end product was a loop of rope hanging the side of the smallest rock. If he used the rope as a foothold, his hope was that he would be able to get to the top.

The final result looked less than sturdy. Anduin tugged at the rope and was slightly encouraged when it did not immediately come loose. He turned away from it and put everything else back in his bag. Throwing it over the rocks to the other side would lessen the weight he would need to put on the rope, but would also leave him stranded without any of his things should this plan fail. Weighing the bag in his hand, he decided not to risk it and slipped his arms into the straps.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered to himself. At least if he slipped off the rocks and cracked his skull open, he would die knowing that he tried everything he could.

With a reasonable amount of effort, he put one foot on the rope and pushed himself up onto the wall. There was a minute of frantic scrabbling at the rocks where he was sure he was about to lose his balance and go crashing back down, but at what felt like the last second one of his hands grabbed onto something sturdy and he was able to pull his weight in and keep himself up. Holding his breath, he waited to see if the rope would hold his weight. The sapling he’d attached one end to creaked alarmingly, he held very still so he wouldn’t put any more pressure on it. When it seemed to be holding fast, he slowly let his breath out and relaxed slightly. That was the easy part, on to step two.

His rope foothold was more wobbly than he’d anticipated. He hadn’t expected it to be _sturdy_ , but it felt like he was standing on thin air. It was a disorienting sensation, and he almost lost his balance by thinking too hard about it. If he was going to do something, it would have to be soon. Before long, his strength would run out and he would no longer be able to hold himself up against the rock. _Please work_ , he thought desperately. The Light had never failed him before. Jumping up from the rope as hard as he could, he cast his levitation spell at the same moment. If he had it right, it should give him the extra boost he would need.

It worked, at least well enough that he could get his arms and most of his chest up onto the top of the rock. He wheezed as the breath was knocked out of him, clinging on for dear life and kicking his feet while he struggled to pull himself the rest of the way up. There was no time for celebration when he finally managed it. Flat surfaces were few and far between in the Spires, and as soon as he had tipped his center of gravity out of the crevice, he was slipping off the top of the rock and tumbling down toward the ground on the other side. Putting everything he had into maintaining his levitation spell did not stop him from hitting the ground, it only slowed the impact.

Lying on the ground while reorienting himself and checking to see if anything was broken was a position which by now was distressingly familiar to him. Everything seemed to still be working, and he didn’t think he’d hit his head, so he sat up slowly. Casting a healing spell on himself just in case, he grinned. He’d made it out! Now what?

Would it be smart to start walking? He knew roughly where the others had been intending to go, he could travel as close as he could to each of the sites and see if he could uncover some clues about what had happened to them. On the other hand, that might be a great way to ensure that he would be walking directly into whatever trouble they had run into. And what if they came back here while he was gone? They might think he’d been carried off by a rylak or discovered by an Iron Horde patrol. It might be smarter to stay nearby for a day or two, just in case. He didn’t want to stay in one place for too long though, if the others were in danger somewhere then there was a chance he could help them if he found them quickly enough.

Running those thoughts around in circles wasn’t going to get him anywhere. All he was doing was conjuring increasingly dire ideas about what kind of danger could waylay a team of highly skilled assassins and a dragon. He shook his head violently and stood up. Time to make a decision. Reaching into his bag, he dug around until he found his journal and pen. If he left a note for the others, he could go and search without worrying that they might miss each other. Something simple, that wouldn’t lead enemies to him if it got found by anybody other than the intended recipients.

_Left here a little past noon on the second day. Went to check on the first site. If you find this, I hope you’re well._

_Wait here for me to get back._

_-A_

It wouldn’t win any literature awards, but he felt like it got the message across without sharing any key details. Tearing the page out of his journal, he folded it in half and sketched a small Stormwind lion on the outside. It would be less noticeable that way, only those who knew the lion insignia would be drawn to it. He placed the folded note on the ground near the crevice, held in place by a rock. With any luck, it would stay there and not get blown away in the wind or kicked aside by a passing animal.

Checking his direction with his compass, he walked away as fast as he could toward the nearest site.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe nanowrimo is over and I am no closer to wrapping this thing up than I was before. It's not necessarily a bad thing, I just wish I had some idea where this is going.

Setting guards to keep an eye on them was not the only thing the saberon did. Left tugged at the thick chain they’d wrapped around her ankle, knowing even before she tried that it would be futile. The guards, now standing outside the cave, turned back to watch her struggle and laughed their infuriating airy laughs. Some of the hunters who had come to visit the Black Prince at the Veiled Stair had brought big cats as pets, and it was a similar sound to the odd huffing noise that the animals made when they were excited about something. Hearing it come from the throats of creatures that walked upright was as unnerving as it was annoying.

No matter, she told herself, sitting back down on the stone floor. She hadn’t been trying to escape anyway. Just testing the strength of the chain, to see if she could break it with her own power when Right came back for them. But it was sturdy, so well made that she was certain it must be stolen. The saberon were in no way clever enough to build something of this caliber, and even if they were, she had seen no forge on the way into their valley.

A quiet groan caught her attention. The Black Prince was stirring. She rushed over, kneeling down by the flimsy cot he’d been placed on. “Don’t try to move.”

It was a warning she gave each time he started to come around, and just like all the other times, he ignored it. He lifted his head and an expression of intense pain passed over his face. Immediately, he reached up and carefully pressed a hand down onto his skull where the blow had landed, kept it there for a moment, and then removed it. Holding his palm up near his eyes, he squinted blearily at it. Checking for blood. There wasn’t any, Left had used some of her water to clean it away after the wound had closed.

The Prince considered his hand for a long moment. Then he looked around the cave, moving mostly his eyes. “What?” he said at last.

Left leaned in close to make sure that he could see her, carefully keeping the worry off her face. Each time he’d woken, he seemed to have trouble forming words and sentences. It could be the pain, it could be the medicine man’s concoctions at work, but she couldn’t help worrying that it might be a sign of a deeper problem. “We were ambushed. Saberon. They knocked you out, and brought us here. Do you understand?”

The Prince blinked at her, his brow wrinkled in confusion. It took him a long, agonizing moment to reply. “Anduin Wrynn?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and the words slurred together oddly.

“Right is with him, and they’re both safe.” Oh, how she hoped that was true. In his current state, the Prince’s emotions were displayed prominently across his face. His eyes were wide and frightened, and Left would have said anything to make him feel better.

He opened his mouth, perhaps to say something else, but a rattling at the cave entrance stopped him. Left knew what it was before she looked up. The saberon’s medicine man always showed up within minutes of the Prince waking, and carried a staff adorned with the bones of small animals that shook and rattled when he moved. He set it aside when he entered the cave, leaning it up against the wall and approaching the Prince’s cot. Left blocked him, but he pushed past her as if he hadn’t even seen that she was there. Kneeling down at the head of the cot, he pulled out a bottle of a foul smelling brew, put it to the Prince’s lips, and tilted it so he no choice but to swallow the potion.

Consciousness faded from the Prince’s eyes at once. The medicine man supported his head with a gentleness that always surprised Left, lowering it back down onto the pillow. Then he stood, turned, collected his staff, gave Left a sarcastic bow, and departed. She smiled grimly after him. They hadn’t tried drugging her again, not after she and Right had broken several warriors’ arms during their capture. It had been easy for the saberon to force the potion on the Prince after he’d been knocked out, a live and struggling orc was another story. After learning that they couldn’t overpower her within such a small space, they had tried to outsmart her, offering her water and meat that she was certain was laced with the concoction. It was the oldest trick in the book.

Going without food and water for a few days wouldn’t hurt her, so she refused everything they brought her. There was absolutely no way she would knowingly ingest something that was affecting the Prince, who had a higher natural immunity than even the most resilient orcs. For all she knew, that was a deadly poison they were feeding him. The thought brought a grim smile to her face. Unconscious, the Black Prince might be handily intimidating their captors without even knowing it. If they were dosing him with poison every few hours and not getting any more reaction than this deep slumber he was in, that would certainly make them think twice about killing him.

Something told her that wasn’t what the potion was, however. He had already been helpless the first time they gave it to him, it would have been simpler to just send someone in and slit his throat. She and Right had been in no position to stop them. That in itself was difficult to admit. Fighting off a surprise attack, no matter how quickly it was over, had been enough to drain their energy. For at least the first hour they’d been held captive, neither of them would have been able to defend the Prince against a potential killer, especially one with so much backup readily available just outside.

With every minute the saberon allowed her to rest and regain her strength, she became more of a threat to them. It was extremely poor captive management. If the Black Prince were the one in charge, he would have someone in with them all the time, harassing them so they wouldn’t have the opportunity to recover. Whatever they were being held for, the saberon wanted her in peak condition for it. Several possibilities stood out, she did her best not to dwell on any one of them. _Trust_ , she reminded herself. It wasn’t something that she practiced often, and in fact the Prince discouraged his agents from trusting anybody. But Right was different. Right had never let her down or lied to her. She said that she would come back, and she would.

More sounds from the front of the cave. A new saberon had arrived, and was discussing something with the guards. Whatever it said must have satisfied them, because they stood aside and let it through. Right noticed that it was smaller than the others, and wondered if that meant anything. It carried a large sack over its shoulder, and unlike the medicine man, it was staring directly at Left. This must be another trick. Left stared back, preparing herself for a struggle.

The saberon seemed more amused than anything by her continued show of defiance. Setting the bag down on the floor, it sat crosslegged in front of her. Watching her closely for her reaction, it reached into the bag and slowly pulled out a very familiar item.

“My crossbow!” Left grabbed for it. The saberon held it up out of her reach, grinning. Outside, the two guards peered curiously inside, both tensed and ready to pounce on her if she attacked her tormentor to retriever her weapon. Fine, then. She’d play this game. Folding her arms, Left moved to sit opposite the saberon.

To her surprise, as soon as she was sitting peacefully, her crossbow was held out to her. Wary of a trick, she reached for it but stopped just shy of grabbing it. The saberon watched her, eyes half closed, flicking its tail and purring deeply. It was clearly having a lot of fun of at her expense. _Can’t have that_ , Left thought. She was not a mouse, to be toyed with by a bunch of overgrown housecats. Snarling, she grabbed it and pulled it close to her chest. Without bolts it was useless, but it was _hers_ and she wasn’t going to let them keep it any longer. When she moved it, she felt something rattle. With a sinking sensation in her stomach, she held it up to the light and examined it carefully. The screws holding it in place were loose, and there were some gears missing, rendering it completely unusable.

Someone had _taken it apart_ , she realized with a rush of blinding rage. Taken it apart and made a token effort to put it back together before returning it. They might as well have spat on her ancestor’s graves, there could be no greater insult than desecrating her weapon in this way. She turned with the intent to strike the saberon across the face, but found to her immense frustration that it had anticipated her anger and stepped back until it was just barely out of the range she could reach when she stretched her chain out as far as it would go. She clawed futilely at its face, her mind constructing a beautiful fantasy where the chain gave way and she could tear that maddening cat smirk right off.

The saberon held up one finger in the universal gesture for _one moment, please_. Left did not want to give it a moment. She wanted to kill it. Holding up the bag, the saberon turned it over and dumped the rest of the contents out onto the floor of the cave. Blinking in confusion, Left took in the pile of assorted objects. Tools, of every kind. The missing pieces of her crossbow. Scrap metal. Just as the saberon had stolen the chain holding her captive, they must have pilfered these tools. There could only be one possible source. The cats had seen the new technology brought to the Bladefist clan’s settlements, and they were curious.

Picking through the pile, Left retrieved her crossbow’s parts and a few tools she might be able to use to reattach them. Nothing was the right size, everything was mismatched, but she’d worked with worse. Aware that she was being used, she began slowly working restoring her weapon to fighting shape. The small saberon and the guards watched, their eyes flashing green in the dim light.

* * *

 

 It was slow going. Anduin picked his way over rocks and through shrubs much more carefully than he normally would. Above all, he needed to be quiet. Until he found out what had befallen the others, he had to assume that they had run afoul of something, something that could still be nearby. So even though his instinct was to run, crash his way through underbrush and scramble as fast as he could up the slopes to find them, he forced himself to keep his progress to a steady, quiet crawl. It was for the best, really. If he wanted to have any hope of making it up to the site, he would need to conserve his energy on the way.

He stopped to eat around midday, hiding himself away beneath the twisting branches of a tree. Worry for Wrathion was making it hard to feel hungry, but he knew he had to keep his strength up. Maybe he should start saving his food more carefully. Wrathion had been supplementing the edible plants they were gathering by hunting, but if he was hurt and couldn’t do that, or if- Anduin cut off that thought, swallowing his mouthful of fruit around the large lump in his throat. Wrathion wasn’t dead. It would make no sense. Out of the four of them, he was the toughest, and he had Left and Right to look after him. If Anduin was alive and well, Wrathion certainly was.

Deciding that it would be best to keep moving so he had something else to occupy his thoughts with, Anduin packed up after only eating a few bites. He thought he saw some landmarks that looked like the ones Left had sketched out, it couldn’t be long now before he got to the site. He needed a clue, something that would point him in the direction he should look. Anything would do, otherwise he would just be wandering aimless and lost through the mountains. Unfortunately, looking as closely as he was, he was spotting potential clues everywhere. There was a scuff in the ground, was it a sign of a struggle or just a place where an herbivore had dug up some roots? That rock had been overturned recently, was it a signal or the result of a minor landslide?

One of Stormwind’s trackers could pick up legitimate signs of the others right away. Anduin knew that he was meant to be a priest, and that he’d made the right decision in following his heart, but why did his heart have to choose something with such limited practical application for exploration? He was good with a bow, he could have studied to become a hunter and then he wouldn’t be having this problem.

Ahead of him loomed a tall peak, and at the top of it was the first site. His heart sank as he craned his neck to stare upward at the narrow ledge high above him. There could be anything up there. A clue, a message, even his friends themselves, wounded and unable to call out. Without wings, he would never see it. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he risked making some noise. “Wrathion? Left? Right? Are you up there?”

Nothing. No movement on the ledge, and no indication that anything had heard him. He tried again. “If you’re there and you hear me, give me some kind of signal! I can’t climb up!”

He fell silent, listening intently for any sound. Still nothing, except the distant calls of birds on the next peak. After waiting for a few minutes, he lifted a stone off the ground and tossed it up onto the ledge. It landed with a clatter, rolling against bare rock. Nothing was up there. Anduin sighed and turned away. Should he move on and try to reach the next site? He’d already wasted most of the afternoon getting up here. Time seemed to work differently here, the daylight hours were shorter and nights stretched on far too long. The sheer size of the mountains blocked out the sun unless it was high in the sky.

By the time he made it to the next site, it would be getting dark, and wouldn’t be safe for him to climb back down to check on his note. He still maintained the hope, however slight, that he would get back to where he’d left it and find Wrathion there, smiling and asking him what he thought he was doing running off by himself. If he didn’t climb so slowly, he could go check the next site and make it back to his note by the time the sun went down. Cursing his legs, he turned and started the long descent back to the place he’d begun thinking of as his base camp. It was the only thing he could do that made sense. Being up on such steep slopes was unsafe unless he had a very clear view of the terrain. The thought that it might take more than one more day at his pace to check the other sites weighed heavily on him, and he felt as if he was tumbling down the mountain rather than walking.

He was so caught up in his bad mood that he almost missed the only real hint that the others had been this way at all. Going downhill was faster than going up, but no more pleasant. Every step rattled at him, and he felt that if he tried to stop he might just slide right off the mountain. Nevertheless, he had to make a quick stop when he saw something glinting in the light a short distance away. Just like he’d feared, his momentum kept carrying him even when he tried to stop, and he found himself on the ground, his feet having skidded out from underneath him. It was caught on something a short distance up a sheer rock face. Shielding his eyes from the glaring rays of the sun on the horizon, Anduin peered upward, trying to determine what was caught there and how it had gotten there in the first place. The best guess he had was that someone had been climbing nearby and dropped the object, which had been carried by the wind to where it was currently resting. It was obviously crafted, not something that would be there naturally.

No good. He needed to get closer. Picking himself up, he dusted the dirt off his clothes and climbed slowly back up. The steep but navigable slope he’d come down went past the rock face, and he had the vague idea that if he climbed back up far enough he could reach out and grab whatever it was to get a better look at it. He abandoned that plan when he got level with the object, not just because it was farther from his path than he’d thought, but also because he could tell what it was without getting closer. A braided tassel, crafted from gold thread. Just like the ones Wrathion wore on his shoulders.

Wrathion had been here, he’d made it up this far at least. Anduin looked around again, more carefully this time, for any tracks or other dropped items that might help him figure out what had happened. A lone tassel was exciting to see, but told him nothing. Wrathion’s clothes were well-made, and he couldn’t imagine pieces of them falling off for no reason. There must have been a fight, or an accident. Something like that would leave signs. Yet still, no matter how much he strained his eyes, nothing stood out. Eventually he had to admit defeat, and dejectedly started back down the slope. _Don’t give up_ was the mantra he repeated to himself as he walked. He would go back out there tomorrow and keep looking, and if he didn’t find anything he would start searching in a radius of a couple miles around the sites. Two highly trained rogues and a dragon could not just vanish into thin air. Finding them was not impossible, and they were okay. He had to believe that.

Nearing his base, he could see the note pinned under the rock exactly where he’d left it, with no signs of the others anywhere nearby. He had been rushing to get back just in case they were waiting for him, and now that he could see they weren’t, he saw no reason not to stop for a rest. Sitting down in a relatively flat place on his path, he rested his head on his knees and sighed, closing his eyes to remove any possibility of tears. Crying wasn’t going to help. Nothing he was feeling was important at the moment. The only thing that mattered was _finding them_. He would stick to the plan, find out where they’d gone, rescue them from whatever horrible thing was keeping them away, and then he could let himself feel as much as he wanted. Until then, he had to stay calm and focused. He stood up again and started back down the slope.

“Thought you’d been eaten by something.”

Anduin whirled around at the sound of the voice and lost his balance. Waving his arms wildly did nothing to save him, and he crashed down the slope, coming to rest in a small ditch at the very bottom of the hill, near the path. It hurt, he’d definitely added a few more scrapes to his collection, but none of that mattered. He jumped to his feet, swinging his head back and forth, praying that he hadn’t just started hallucinating. “Right, is that you? Are you there? I can’t see you!”

“It’s me. Hold still, you’re bleeding.” Right appeared directly in his path of vision, stepping out from behind a rock that was in no way large enough to have concealed her presence. Usually Anduin was impressed by how rogues could go undetected even without any obvious camoflage, but instead he was just annoyed.

“How long have you been following me?” he asked, not bothering to hide the accusation in his voice. There was a _time and place_ for showing off one’s abilities. He had been looking _everywhere_ for them, had Right just been hiding nearby and watching him struggle?

Right gave no sign of understanding that she’d upset him. “I just got back here. Was about to come looking for you. Didn’t trust you not to go off and hurt yourself.” She picked up his note, folded it smartly, and handed it back to him. “You’re still bleeding, by the way.”

“That doesn’t matter right now!” Anduin knew he was bleeding, from more scrapes than were visible. He would heal himself later. “Are you okay? Where are the others? I found part of Wrathion’s outfit caught on a rock, is he hurt?” He had more questions than breath, and eventually had to stop, breathing hard and feeling slightly lightheaded. He wasn’t alone anymore, and that was enough to overwhelm him all by itself. If he didn’t think Right would punch him for it, he could have hugged her. As it was, he was aware once again of the threat of tears, and had to sit back down.

Right looked uncomfortable. “I am unharmed, thank you for your concern. The Black Prince was the subject of an ambush by the local saberon, for unknown purposes.” She pointed at a ridge a ways to the East. “The pride lives in a valley over that hill, they are holding Left and the Prince captive near the center. When I escaped, Left was fine but the Prince was unconscious.” Raising one hand to the back of her head to demonstrate, she struggled with the rest of her words. “They clubbed him on the head, here. Then they fed him some kind of potion, I don’t know what it was for. I was hoping you might.”

Anduin shook his head slowly. “I would have to see them making it, and even then, I only know a certain number of healing potions.” Right would know that. He had the feeling that she was trying to deflect his attention onto a problem that could be solved, rather than let him dwell on the rest of what she’d said. “Do you think he was hurt badly?”

“He looked it.” Her voice was quiet, and she sounded pensive. “As much as he looked anything. Like I said, he’s been unconscious. Left and I know how to set bones and treat cuts, basic first aid. I’d need to talk to him to know how badly he was hurt, and if he came to at all, it was after I escaped.”

That didn’t sound good at all. Anduin felt sick, imagining the sort of strength that would be needed to seriously injure someone as resilient as Wrathion. “Do you know why you were attacked?”

Right shook her head. “The saberon don’t speak very well. They mostly growl. We were kept tied up in a cave, but we had no idea what they wanted from us.”

“I’m sorry.” Anduin didn’t know what he was apologizing for, he just felt like it was something he needed to get out of the way. Right was going to launch a rescue mission, and of course he would come along because he needed to see Wrathion’s condition to help him. He had no idea the sorts of skills required for entering a valley full of saberon and removing an unconscious person, but he was almost sure he didn’t have them. At least, if nothing else, he could make Wrathion lighter so they could carry him out if he couldn’t be revived. “What do you need me to do?”

* * *

 

 What Right needed him to do was plan. Her ideas had gotten her out of the valley, but as she grudgingly explained, it had been with no small amount of trouble and she was sure she didn’t have the capability to plot her way back in. Her mind worked best with spying and sneaking, and she didn’t believe she was suited for more complex strategies. Anduin didn’t think he was especially suited for it either, but she had insisted that he be the one to come up with their game plan for rescuing the others. He couldn’t shake the suspicion that it was mostly because she wanted someone to blame if things went badly.

They’d set off early in the morning, before it was even light out yet, and headed for the saberon’s valley. Right set a very fast pace. Anduin kept up as well as he could, but she had to stop and wait for him with increasing frequency the longer they walked. He didn’t dare complain, he felt just as strongly as she did that they needed to get there, and fast. In a way though, the news of what had happened came as a relief. Wrathion was alive, although hurt, and Left was unharmed and watching over him. They were in a known location, surrounded by a known threat. The only mystery was the reason for their captivity, and if the rescue went well then they wouldn’t even need to know that.

The valley wasn’t far, but it was hidden so well among the mountains that Anduin felt he could have spent weeks hiking around the area searching and not found it. Right even had trouble finding a way back in, and she’d told him that the trail she escaped by had been well-marked going the other direction. Eventually they found what might have been a trail, but also might have been an incidental feature of the landscape. It had just enough minor obstacles to make Anduin think it was the latter, but not enough to be impassible. About ten minutes after beginning their descent into the valley, they found their first saberon.

It was huge, sprawled out on a ledge just above their path, and they heard it before they saw it. Loud, rumbling snores, which at first had sounded like growls and made Anduin start conjuring a shield while Right reflexively tried to drag him off the path. Even after spotting the saberon and realizing it was asleep, Anduin felt like keeping the shield up just in case. He had to force himself to lower it, because maintaining a shield took concentration, and he needed that to scope out the valley and decide what the best way to get Left and Wrathion out would be.

There were certain buildings in Stormwind, usually the older structures made from wood rather than stone, which appeared small at first glance but held lots of space within them. Rooms stacked over each other or hidden underneath staircases, hallways that twisted and turned so that they led to multiple different locations instead of just serving as a conduit between two places, extensive underground levels which sometimes were bigger even than the part of the building that was aboveground. Anduin’s first impression of the saberon’s valley was that it was likely to be the same sort of place. Almost everywhere he looked, the rock had been shaped by strong claws or merely worn down into winding paths by generations of saberon walking along them. There were caves dug out into the rock not evenly spaced, but fit in wherever there was room for them. It was the kind of place that would be intuitively familiar to those who lived there, but which would be easy for an outsider to get lost in.

“Can you see it from here?” he asked Right in a whisper. “The cave you were held in?”

She risked standing to get a better view. After entering the valley the first thing they had done was try to find cover, and they were now concealed behind a pile of boulders along one side of the camp. A heap of fabric scraps and animal bones indicated it was a waste site, which Anduin had thought meant they risked discovery by any saberon coming to dispose of their garbage, but Right had explained that it was actually one of the safer places they could hide. Nobody was going to inspect the area around a garbage pile very closely.

“I think I can,” she said eventually, her voice tinged with doubt. “There’s one across the way there with a skull tied to the outside. I recognize the decoration, but I don’t know what it means. It’s possible that other caves have them too. Assuming it’s the same one I saw on my way out, Left and the Prince should be in the one a few meters above.”

That wasn’t a lot to work with. Anduin frowned. He had a vague idea involving the saberon’s apparently rather loose grasp of personal ownership. The caves looked to be for sleeping rather than storage, and in the short time he had been watching he’d seen the saberon that were still awake pick up items like knives or water barrels, use them, and then put them back for someone else to take. Anduin followed Right’s gaze. The cave she was talking about was all the way on the other side of the valley. There were several saberon standing around outside of it, but it was impossible for him to tell if they were intentionally guarding the entrance or if they just happened to want to be there. “Is there a way we can be sure?” he asked. “Once we know where they are, we can try to create a diversion to get them out. We need to be certain where they are, though. Most diversions only work once, especially the kind I’m thinking of.”

Right raised an eyebrow. Perhaps she’d already caught on. “I can sneak across and take a look,” she said. “There’s few enough saberon awake right now that I can make it.”

Few enough saberon, to Anduin, looked an awful lot like _too many_ saberon. He hated to think how many were hidden away in the caves, if this was just a small number of them. “Don’t go to close,” he said. “And be careful.”

“I’m always careful.” Right backed away around the side of the rock.

Anduin could see her sneaking around caves and covering herself behind piles of miscellaneous things, but only because he was watching for her. If he hadn’t known where she was going to be, he was sure he would have missed her entirely. The saberon certainly didn’t notice. A few of them sat up and sniffed at the air with mild interest as she passed, but none of them reacted aggressively. It wasn’t until she reached the ledge that the cave was on that she encountered anything like resistance. The saberon standing nearby were guards, it was obvious from the way they reacted. At the first sign of an unfamiliar scent, every one of them reached for a weapon and started looking around, trying to catch a glimpse of her.

Dodging around them would only work for so long, so Right wisely backed off and retreated back to Anduin. The fact that one cave was guarded while the rest were not was enough of an indication anyway, Anduin thought. They didn’t need to see inside of it to have a pretty good idea that it was the right one.

Right confirmed his thinking once she got back. “They’re in there,” she said. “I didn’t see them, but I heard Left talking. Couldn’t catch what she was saying, but it probably doesn’t matter.”

Maybe it didn’t matter, maybe it did. Anduin wasn’t going to send Right back into a dodgy situation just to find out. They would have to make do with what they knew. “Okay,” he said. “I think I know something we can try. How close to the cave do you think I could safely get?”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's chapter is a little short, I had some stuff to deal with this week. I hope to have a better grasp on everything by next week.

In her occasional moments of solitude, Left had taken to working on her chain. It was too heavy for her to break outright, so she’d set herself to the task of steadily weakening it. There was one link, midway down the length of it, that had been damaged. That was where she focused her energy. Pushing rocks into it, bracing it against things, doing everything she could to increase the damage enough to be able to free herself when the time came. It would be soon, she knew that for sure. Neither Right nor Prince Anduin were prone to hesitation. Left expected at any moment to hear the sounds of a brief struggle and see Right appear at the mouth of the cave.

What she got instead was the smell of smoke. Subtle at first, then growing in intensity until the saberon standing guard outside had no choice but to take notice. They had been standing slouched over, allowing the sunlight to get to them, but once the smell hit them they stood up straight and began looking around and sniffing the air. Eventually, one of them picked up his spear and took a few steps away from the cave. Left watched with increasing interest. Was he going to leave? Whatever Right was doing as a distraction- this had to be Right, it could be nothing else- it was working.

Something on the other side of the valley collapsed with a crash, and roars echoed among the rocks. Left’s guards looked at each other uncomfortably, then as one turned to look back at her. She sat very still against the wall and pretended to be napping, watching them through mostly-closed eyes. Another glance at each other, and one of the guards cautiously entered the cave. He poked Left in the leg with the blunt end of his spear to check her reactions. She pulled it back slightly, but otherwise remained still, head lolling off to one side. It was not the best acting job, but at least it was enough to fool a saberon. The guard made an approving noise and nodded to his partner. Taking up their spears, they quickly ran off to handle the growing chaos across the valley.

Left immediately redoubled her efforts to break free. There would only be one chance at escape, and she would not be the one to ruin it by being unable to get herself out. It was the first time since arriving at the valley that she had been left completely unsupervised, so she allowed herself to be less subtle in her attempts. The clattering penetrated some way into the Black Prince’s stupor, and he moved slightly, mumbling something indistinct. Left ceased her frantic tugging at the chain and waited to see if he would wake. Normally he got dosed with the potion to put him back under every few hours, but with so much going on outside, perhaps the medicine man would be unable to get through.

“Your majesty?” she said softly, kneeling beside his cot. “Can you hear me?”

As with every other time he drifted toward consciousness, the Prince’s awareness returned to him slowly. His eyes took in his surroundings without any visible signs of comprehension behind them. He lifted his head briefly, but set it back down at once, groaning and shutting his eyes tightly. Left couldn’t decide whether to help him sit up or make him lie still. He hadn’t been chained down, most likely the saberon only had one length of chain and needed it for their more combative prisoner, but if he could not stand then he might as well be caged.

A figure appeared at the mouth of the cave. Left instinctively tensed for a fight, and relaxed slightly when she saw that it was only Anduin Wrynn. “Where is Right?” she demanded. When she pictured her escape from this place, she was at Right’s side fighting her way through a line of enemies with this child following behind them at a safe distance.

Anduin’s face softened in relief at the sight of her. “Good, you’re up. Right thought they might have you drugged too. She’s outside, can’t you tell? Setting fires. The saberon have left enough flammable stuff lying around to send this whole valley up in flames. We should try to get out of here soon. She’s going to cover us from the top of the rocks.”

“I’d love to get out of here,” Left growled. She gave her chain an especially vicious tug. It held.

Anduin Wrynn had rushed across the cave to check on the Prince, but the rattling iron caught his attention. “Hey, hold that taut for a second,” he said. “I want to try something.”

Left pulled it tight, watching him dubiously. A little thing like him probably couldn’t even break a frayed rope. He held out a hand, narrowed his eyes at the battered link in the chain, and whispered something, no doubt one of his prayers to the Light. Although there was no natural source of light within the cave, there was a brilliant flash and the chain gave way. Examining the break, Left could see that it was scorched. She raised her eyebrows, precision control over holy fire was nothing to scoff at. “Thanks,” she told him. He didn’t answer, he’d already gone back to examining the Black Prince.

Standing up, Left took a moment to relish her newfound ability to walk as far from the wall as she wanted. She stretched, gathered up her things from the far wall, and joined Anduin at the Prince’s side. He had his hands to the Prince’s head and a bright healing aura surrounded them. “Can you reach into my backpack and get at my water?” Anduin asked her after a pause. Focusing on healing the Prince, it had taken him some time to notice her beside him. “Right said they’ve been giving him a potion. I can’t do much to counteract the effects, but he should get some other fluids into his system once he’s conscious enough.”

“Will that be long?” Already the saberon pride was in uproar, and Left could now hear the crackling of flames from all around. Smoke hung heavy in the air. She nervously hefted her crossbow up and pointed it in the general direction of the outdoors, a habit that had been ingrained from years of dangerous work.

“I hope not.” Anduin stopped his healing spell. “I did my best with his physical wounds, but he probably won’t be back to his normal self right away. He should be able to walk, though.” Carefully, he slid one arm under the Prince’s shoulders and maneuvered him into a sitting position. He placed his other hand gently on the Prince’s forehead. “Wrathion? You awake in there?”

The Prince opened his eyes again and stared blankly. He appeared to be having some trouble focusing his eyes, and after a second he just gave up. “Anduin?” he mumbled. “I don’t feel…” the sentence trailed off, but his meaning was clear. Left managed to dig out Anduin’s water from his mess of a backpack and offered it to the Prince.

“No.” The Prince weakly raised a hand to push the water away. Left withdrew it without much reluctance. He looked nauseated, and she didn’t want him heaving draconic stomach bile everywhere while they were trying to slip away unnoticed.

“Can you stand?” Anduin asked. It was a stupid question, and he seemed to realize that as soon as he’d asked it. Even sitting down, the Prince was swaying alarmingly and his eyes still had a dazed, unfocused look to them. Left doubted he could stay seated upright if Anduin stopped supporting him.

He tried, of course. If he didn’t always try, he would not be the young Prince that Left had pledged loyalty to. But his knees wouldn’t hold him, his body couldn’t quite remember the instructions for balance and motion. Left slung her crossbow onto her back and sighed. When the Prince’s lucidity returned to him, he was really going to hate this. “If you need to change forms,” she told him, “I will carry you out and never say another word about it. We need to go.” The smoke in the air could not be helping the Prince pull himself together. Smoke and fire were home to black dragons, they would be reminding him of what he was. Human legs might be too much for him.

She knew she was right when the Prince shifted to his dragon form immediately, his human form falling away from him like so much dust. He let out a relieved sigh and collapsed back down onto the cot. Left lifted him up with some difficulty, he was growing every day and while he was still light enough to carry easily, all his limbs were a bit unwieldy. Turning to tell Anduin to move, she realized that he was already halfway to the exit and followed him at a run.

* * *

 

 Outside of the cave, there was chaos. Anduin passed a whole group of saberon, all roaring at each other and trying to extinguish a patch of flames, and not a single of them even noticed he was there. He grabbed a discarded spear from the sidelines and used it to help support his weight as he hurried after Left and Wrathion. Somewhere above their heads, he knew Right was waiting with some stolen throwing knives, ready to defend them if they encountered any trouble escaping. Knowing that didn’t help him feel any more secure. He stayed close on Left’s heels, rushing along almost blindly, focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other.

Near the edge of the valley, the fires were fewer and farther between. This was helpful when it came to finding a safe path to leave by, but it also meant that the saberon there were less distracted. Coming around the side of a rock, Left nearly crashed right into a group of them. They had just come from putting out fires, that much was clear from the ashes on their fur, and they were angry. Anduin ducked behind Left and cast a shield just in time to deflect a wild swipe from the leader’s claws. Right, still concealed somewhere, began throwing daggers into the group. Most of the saberon backed off, snarling, but two remained. From a distance, a small blade could only do so much damage to a large beast, and the largest of the group decided that the pain was worth getting a chance to take out their frustration on something.

Anduin flinched when they attacked again, pressing their faces against the shield in outraged confusion while their clawed hands battered away at it. Then he went on the defensive, raising one hand and casting a column of holy fire to burn the one nearest to him. At the same moment, Right burst out from her hiding place among the rocks to tackle the second. Her momentum allowed her to knock it down, and she cut its throat without hesitating.

The remaining saberon fled. Anduin took a step toward the one Right had dispatched, his healer’s instinct set off by the sight of so much blood, but he stopped himself. If it wasn’t dead already it would be soon, and stopping to heal an enemy would land them all back in that cave, or worse. “You didn’t have to kill him,” he said reproachfully to Right.

“Yes I did.” She didn’t even look up, too busy retrieving as many knives as she could from the surrounding area. “One less saberon to chase after us once they’ve reorganized. Come on, let’s keep moving.”

The protest died in Anduin’s throat when Left unceremoniously dumped Wrathion into his arms. “You carry him now, I’ll need my hands to fight if we’re pursued.” She unslung her crossbow with an apologetic look at Right. “I couldn’t get yours back.”

“I’ll get a new one.” Right pulled the last knife out of the dirt and waved them on. “Shortest way out is this way.”

Wrathion was heavy. Anduin almost dropped him, and earned an angry puff of smoke in return. Carefully, he tucked the spear he’d stolen under one arm, not wanting to leave it behind. If he could bring it with him, it would make a better replacement cane than various tree branches. He just hoped they wouldn’t have to go very far, that they would find a place to hide or a place where they could defend themselves from attack. It was hard enough for him to climb so quickly by himself, let alone while supporting the weight of an entire dragon. When they’d left Azeroth Wrathion had been about the size of a dog, and Anduin supposed the comparison still worked. It would just have to be a larger dog. He hung limply in Anduin’s arms and made no effort to stay in a position that would make holding onto him easier. Each time he got jostled around by the motion of their retreat, he growled.

He must still be in pain. Anduin tightened his grip slightly, hoping to keep Wrathion as steady as possible. Internal wounds were harder to heal because there wasn’t any visible damage to focus on. Although he had done his best to heal the injury as much as he could and he hadn’t found any indication that there would be lasting effects from the attack, Wrathion would likely have a sore head for at least a few days.

Left and Right slowed down from a run into a swift walk once they’d made it out of the valley, giving Anduin a chance to catch his breath. Their goal was a forest some distance away. Among the trees it would be easier to find cover, and maybe even a place to stop. Anduin desperately hoped for a chance to stop, it was all he could do to keep his legs underneath him. So far there was no sign of a chase, but Right assured him that there hadn’t been any sign of pursuit when they’d been captured, either. They had to stay on alert, and assume that they were being watched even if it seemed like they were all alone.

Early in the afternoon, they made it to the forest. Left and Right immediately picked up the pace again, hopping over tree roots and weaving through underbrush like the obstacles weren’t even there. Anduin sighed loudly, because if he tried to keep up he would definitely fall, and because getting angry was easier than getting discouraged. He carefully readjusted his grip on Wrathion in the hope of allowing himself more freedom to catch himself when he inevitably tripped over roots that he couldn’t even see past the mass of scales blocking his view of the ground, and followed them as quickly as he could. Wrathion made a noise that could have been a laugh, which was an encouraging sign. He hadn’t said anything since they’d gotten him out of the cave, so anything he did that was a shift toward his usual self was a relief for Anduin.

Falling too far behind was impossible. Right and Left never let Wrathion out of their sight. They would dash ahead, then circle around back to Anduin, and then set off in an entirely new direction. He knew it was a tactic for confusing anyone following them, but it was also confusing him. When they finally stopped for a rest, Anduin was able to take a moment to think and realized that he had no idea where they were.

In the end, he supposed it didn’t really matter whether they were lost in a forest or lost near the coast. He propped up Wrathion, who still seemed unwilling to make any use of his limbs, and with his other hand pulled his water back out. “Think you can keep any of this down yet? I’d really feel a lot better if you’d at least try.”

Wrathion hummed. “Did we get to the top yet?” he asked.

That was alarmingly nonsensical. Anduin set the water aside and ran a hand over Wrathion’s head, wary of casting too intense a spell and revealing their location with the light of healing. He settled for a low power healing, and did his best to conceal the glow with his arm. Wrathion’s resilience and naturally increased healing should mean that the damage he’d sustained would not be fatal or permanent, but it never hurt to provide a boost. At the very least, he seemed to enjoy the process, closing his eyes and leaning into Anduin with a small sigh.

“We did,” Left said, answering Wrathion’s question as if it were a perfectly normal thing to ask. “You spent nearly an hour at the shrine, and then we were on our way to the next site when we were attacked. Do you remember?”

“No.” Wrathion didn’t sound at all upset by that.

“Do you remember asking me that question before?” Left asked.

“Have I?” Cracking one eye open, Wrathion looked up at her like he thought she might be messing with him.

Left nodded. “Just this morning.” She looked at Anduin, and although her voice had been steady and calm, her face betrayed significant worry. “Is he going to be okay?”

Wrathion shut his eye again and mumbled something that sounded like _“I’m right here, you know.”_

Absently stroking the back of Wrathion’s head, Anduin took a second to really consider his answer. “I think he will be,” he said at last. “If he were a human, he would have died long before I could reach him, but his body was well on the way to repairing the damage when I found you. I can help it go faster, he just might be kind of out of it for a while. Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t remember much of anything from the last few days.”

“We’ll keep moving, then.” Left said. “We’ll find somewhere secure and you can keep healing him. He needs to be back on his feet soon, it’s not safe.”

That it wasn’t. Every minute that they stayed put was another minute for the saberon to find them again. There was no chance that their escape hadn’t yet been discovered, so it was a race between finding shelter and having to fight for their lives. Anduin was doing his best to stay calm, but he could see Left and Right getting increasingly distressed.

They moved on, this time with purpose. No more sudden changes of direction, no more backtracking to throw off pursuers. Left and Right took it in turns to guard Wrathion. One of them would stay close to Anduin, holding Left’s crossbow and keeping alert to every sound. The other would travel in a wide circle around them, looking for somewhere to hide. They weren’t expecting to find anything good, but in a forest full of tangled underbrush and bent trees there had to be something they could use.

* * *

 

 What they wound up with was a small hollow formed from the roots of a fallen tree. It was barely big enough for Anduin to fit inside with Wrathion in his dragon form, and he almost insisted that they keep moving until they found something better. A hiding place that could not hide the entire group was worthless, as far as he was concerned. Left and Right strongly disagreed with him. If they kept going much longer, Right explained, they would certainly be caught. They simply were not moving quickly enough to outpace a group of hunting saberon. “We don’t blame you,” she had assured him, which meant that they did blame him. He gave in to avoid further discussion, which would only be humiliating. Left and Right were capable of concealing their presence without a hiding spot, and did not mind spending one night outside without shelter.

Wrathion stayed completely quiet the entire time they were walking, but as soon as Anduin had them both hidden away he began talking. Nothing he said connected, it was all semi-delirious chattering, anecdotes about events Anduin had been present for, or frantic questions about their current situation. He seemed happy most of the time he was speaking, so Anduin did his best to keep up while focusing on healing him further. It had been made very clear to him before he went into the hollow that if Left or Right looked in and saw him doing anything other than sleeping or healing Wrathion, there would be trouble.

Luckily, Wrathion did not require him to pay a lot of attention to the conversation. As long as he nodded along in the right spots and responded to Wrathion’s questions with simple answers, he was free to invest more of less all of his attention on the spell. With proper cover keeping the light from reaching the outside, he could put more energy into it without worrying that it would draw the saberon back to them. Normally that would mean that a healing would be completed more quickly, but he took his time with it. It was important to make sure that he didn’t miss anything, and on a personal level he really enjoyed healing people. There were few things as satisfying as watching someone start to feel better under his care.

Feeling better, in Wrathion’s case, meant that his rambling stories slowly began to taper off as he relaxed further and further under the gentle, soothing light. When Anduin took a break to have some water and get his energy back, he had to stretch awkwardly to reach his bag because Wrathion was draped over his legs with no apparent intention to move. The last thing he’d said had been a while ago, and Anduin assumed he’d gone to sleep. At least, he hoped so. He would have to wake Wrathion up before he resumed the healing, just to make sure he was staying responsive. It was something he had to carefully avoid feeling guilty over.

Readjusting his weight a little to avoid having his legs fall asleep, he gently poked at Wrathion’s shoulder. “Wrathion? Sorry, but you have to wake up.”

Wrathion grumbled and opened one eye. “I wasn’t sleeping.” He yawned and glared blearily at Anduin.

Anduin waved his water meaningfully in front of Wrathion’s eyes. “You’ve been avoiding it, but you have to drink something. You’ll feel better if you do.”

“I already feel better,” Wrathion said, shuffling his wings and moving to stand. “I feel fine. Let’s keep moving, we have to, um.” He stopped and turned his head to look at Anduin as if seeing him for the first time. “What were we doing? I thought you were staying behind.”

“I did, and then I met back up with you,” Anduin told him patiently. Each time Wrathion came to he was remembering more of previous conversations, but he still sometimes forgot where everyone was. He probably thought Left and Right were somewhere far away, since he couldn’t see them. “If you drink the water I’ll explain.”

“Fine, give it here.” Wrathion sat up and held out one claw for the water. He took a few reluctant gulps of it and motioned for Anduin to keep talking.

Now, where to start? Anduin hummed thoughtfully. “What do you remember?”

“Leaving you somewhere.” Wrathion’s posture was hunched over, a sign of both physical pain and mental distress. “Why? I wouldn’t do that.” He stared unhappily at Anduin. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yes, I know.” Anduin reached out and slowly stroked one of Wrathion’s horns, casting another small healing spell at the same time. “You argued against it, do you remember? But you needed to go look at something, and I wasn’t going to be able to make the climb.”

Wrathion shook his head, then hissed in pain and pressed into Anduin’s hand firmly as if it would help the healing magic absorb into him faster. “Did I find anything?” he asked. Then he laughed, and there was a bitter note to it. “Not that it matters if I don’t remember.”

It was a good question, one that Anduin had been meaning to ask. He just hadn’t had the chance to. What with finding Right, learning what had happened, and staging a heroic rescue, it had completely slipped his mind. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I don’t know how far you got. You could ask Left and Right once you’re feeling better, they might be able to help you remember.”

Wrathion didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Anduin could tell that he still felt like he’d wasted everyone’s time. “What happened after that?” he asked, settling himself back down to lie across Anduin’s lap. He was shaking a little. Anduin pretended not to notice, but increased the power of his healing and began rubbing up and down Wrathion’s back and sides. It would help with fatigue, or stress, or whatever was sapping Wrathion’s strength.

“Well, Left or Right could tell that story better than I could,” he said. “They were there, I just heard about it later. They’re just outside, do you want to get one of them and have them tell you?”

“No, this is fine.” Wrathion lay his head down over the side of Anduin’s leg, and curled his tail over the other side, preventing him from moving. “There’s no more room in here.” It looked like he wanted to say something else, perhaps he had some other concern that he couldn’t quite articulate. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but eventually he gave up. “Keep talking.”

Step by step, Anduin told the story as well as he could, starting with the shrines Wrathion had gone to investigate and concluding with their flight from the saberon’s valley. He included as many details as possible in the hopes that something would jog Wrathion’s memory, but there was nothing that caused a reaction. Wrathion listened as if he was hearing a story about a stranger, and didn’t ask any more questions. When the story was finished, he let out a huge sigh and closed his eyes again. He was fast asleep again before Anduin finished that round of healing.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy all. I'm not sure how many folks are still keeping up with the new chapters or who looks at the notes or anything but just fyi, and without going into too much detail, my mental health is flipped in a ditch with its wheels spinning at the moment and it's very hard for me to summon motivation for writing. I am sticking to the update schedule and I am trying to keep everything the same as much as possible, but if the quality or length of recent and future chapters are a bit off that is your explanation. I'm seeing someone on Tuesday with the intention of sorting this stuff out, to the extent that I can.

Wrathion woke up curled around Anduin Wrynn. The moment he opened his eyes, his head began to pulse with pain. Hissing, he reached up with one claw to inspect it, but couldn’t find a wound. There wasn’t a center for the pain either, which was interesting since he’d been hit in the back of his head. As his eyes focused in on his surroundings, he wondered how he knew that. Someone had told him, hadn’t they? Something had happened, he remembered bits and pieces of it but it was like looking through a broken telescope. Shattered fragments of information were all moving independently in his head, and the moment he tried to focus in on one of them it would move to a different place. He lifted his head, with the intention of getting up and taking a walk to clear his mind, and immediately put it back down again. It seemed that he could feel his wound after all, the pain in the back of his head had spiked when he moved.

Maybe if he lay very still it would go away again. Even that slight movement had caused his head to spin. How long had he been out? A voice in the back of his head helpfully supplied _three days_ but again, he was unsure where that knowledge came from. And he was still so tired. Sleep lurked around the edges of his consciousness, beckoning him back where it was warm and dark and nothing hurt. For the moment, he resisted, forcing his eyes back open even though the dim light shining down into their hiding spot made them ache. Sight was a challenge, as was linear thought. Wrathion felt himself tensing in alarm as wakefulness set in and hanging on to a train of thought didn’t get any easier. He depended on his mind to do his work, he needed it, he couldn’t afford for it to be hurt.

_Stay still_ , he told himself, repeating back the strategies he’d been taught at Ravenholdt for clearing his mind and making it easier to go undetected. _Breathe deeply. Don’t think about anything but your goal_. What was his goal? Remembering what he was doing here seemed like a good one. He knew that the information was there, it was just buried under layers of confused, jumbled images. The headache wasn’t making things any easier, and he wound up back where he started. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t stay calm, and when he finally couldn’t stand it anymore he jumped to his feet and pushed his front feet hard into Anduin’s chest.

“Huh, what?” Anduin woke with a start, looking around in alarm. “Wrathion? What’s going on?”

“ _Fix it_ ,” Wrathion demanded, poking him in the face with one sharp claw. Then he stumbled as the world spun around him. Anduin brought both hands up to help steady him, and he resisted the urge to swat them away. The only thing less dignified than needing help to stand would be falling, and he was determined to remain upright.

“Take it easy,” Anduin said. He sounded relieved, and he was smiling. “You look a lot better. What do you want me to do? Are you still in pain?”

“I… yes.” The fit of panic had passed, and Wrathion lost a bit of steam. He conceded to the continued unsteadiness of his legs and sat down on Anduin’s lap, careful not to place any weight on spots he knew would be painful for Anduin, and took the opportunity to take a better look at where they were. It was a small space, and if Anduin had been sitting up with his back against a dead tree for the whole night he must be extremely uncomfortable. There was barely any space to move, and Wrathion knew he wasn’t exactly light. “My head hurts. Just a little though,” he lied. “That’s not the problem. I don’t… I can’t think right.”

He wasn’t expecting a huge, dramatic response to that statement, but he had been expecting at least _something_. Anduin barely reacted at all, he just nodded calmly. “You’ve been having some short-term memory problems, but I think that will clear up. Is there anything else?”

That didn’t make sense. He’d been unconscious for three days, how would Anduin know that he was having trouble remembering things? Wrathion stared down at his claws. He must have been awake at some point during all that, then. If he really thought hard, so hard that his headache intensified and he could feel it pulsing behind his eyes, he could call up dreamlike images of talking to Anduin and Left, but he couldn’t be sure if they were real memories or just imagined. Belatedly, he remembered that Anduin had asked him a question and looked back up to find him waiting patiently. “I’m having trouble focusing,” he said. That much was probably obvious. He really needed to pull himself together.

“I think that will get better with time too,” Anduin said. “It’s a side effect of the damage you took. You’re mostly healed now, physically, but your brain has to readjust and that can take some time. I’m afraid I can’t do anything to make it go faster, but I can probably do something about the headache.” He held up his hands, both glowing with healing light.

Wrathion leaned into them gratefully. The magic was cool and soothing, underneath it Anduin’s hands were warm. The combination of sensations sent shivers down his spine and made him want to lie back down, press himself against Anduin as much as possible. How much of that was a side effect of the magic and how much came from his own feelings, he couldn’t be sure. The pain in his head melted away, leaving more room for him to think. “Where are Left and Right?” he asked. He’d noticed their absence before but hadn’t been able to concentrate enough to be concerned about it. Now he could concentrate, but Anduin’s healing kept him feeling blissfully calm.

“Right is just outside.” Anduin spoke softly, clearly focusing most of his attention on his magic, rubbing the light into the skin around Wrathion’s horns. “Left is leading a group of saberon on a wild goose chase. They tracked us this far, but she’s confident she can get them turned around and make them quit.”

The knowledge that they had been followed would normally be enough to make Wrathion insist they move, no matter how sure Left was that she could deflect the pursuit. He recognized that impulse as if from a great distance, but decided to cast it aside. Surely it would be safer to stay here, in a place that had already been searched. He felt drowsy and warm. Healing energy was really something, he remembered feeling something similar when Anduin had mended scratches on his arm, but to a lesser degree. Anduin must have been expending nearly all his magical energy on healing him over the last day or so. He was so lucky to know Anduin, a human who would put so much of himself into helping others for so little return was a rarity.

He realized he was leaning closer into Anduin’s chest, almost cuddling, and pulled himself back upright with a slight shake of his head. His mouth had been open to say something, no doubt something incredibly stupid. Wrathion disguised that with a yawn. Better to let Anduin think he was still sleepy than show how much he’d let the magic lower his defenses.

Anduin laughed softly, and Wrathion immediately took a defensive posture. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing really.” Anduin stroked his head, almost like one would a cat, and if he were anyone else Wrathion would bite his hand. Since it was Anduin, he let it go and tried to ignore for the moment how nice it felt. “Your teeth snap when you yawn,” Anduin explained after another moment. “It’s cute.”

Wrathion recoiled in outrage. He _hated_ being called cute. Adventurers, visitors back in Pandaria, even some of his own Blacktalons had been brave enough to say it to his face. There was nothing cute about him. He was strong, smart, and someone to be taken seriously, not fawned over like a baby animal. The fact that technically he _was_ a baby animal only made it worse.

Before he could launch into his practiced speech on the subject, Anduin held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry,” he said, grinning. “I take it back.”

“You don’t _look_ very sorry.” Wrathion eyed him suspiciously.

“I really am, though.” Anduin was still smiling, but he was trying to hide it. “I wasn’t thinking. I hate being called cute too.”

Wrathion decided to accept the apology, in part because making a scene over something like this would be ridiculous when there were so many other things that needed attention, and in part because all hos offense had drained away the moment he’d seen Anduin smiling at him. After all, Anduin had called him worse things over the course of their friendship, and it wasn’t like he’d intended an insult.

The childish part of him, however, had to have the last word. “I see why people would say that about you,” he said smugly. “I, on the other hand, am a black dragon. I am terrifying. See that you remember it.”

“I’ll make a note of it.” Anduin was avoiding eye contact all of a sudden. “Does your head feel any better? I can keep healing it if you need me to.”

Without the healing spell operating on it, the headache had come back. Wrathion felt like the spell had been keeping the pain at bay rather than doing anything to lessen it. “No, save your energy,” he said. “I’d much rather go outside.” That much was true. He felt like an entire month had gone by since he’d seen the sun, and although Anduin did his best to hide it, he could tell that sitting for so long in such a small space had been uncomfortable. “Besides,” he added, “I’m hungry.”

* * *

 

 Exiting their tiny crawl space was more difficult than squeezing into it had been. Anduin emerged with twigs in his hair and at least one new tear in his shirt. Right greeted them both neutrally, as if she hadn’t been listening in on their conversation, but Anduin knew that she would have been hanging on every word. Wrathion’s condition had been fluctuating, sometimes he seemed almost normal and sometimes he could barely remember the beginning of his sentences all the way to the end. At the moment, he seemed lucid and alert, and it was a good sign that his appetite was back. As soon as he’d gotten himself free of the tree roots he’d made a beeline for his backpack and started digging through it for food.

He briefly acknowledged Right with a nod, and then as he struggled to sort through his bag without hands, he managed to shift into his human form for the first time since they’d left the saberon’s valley. Anduin and Right shared an excited look. That was a clear indicator of progress if there ever was one, even more than the enthusiasm with which Wrathion attacked the strips of jerky he’d located near the bottom of his pack.

Left reappeared a few minutes later, worn out and looking like she’d run a marathon through thorn bushes, but wearing an expression of grim triumph. “They won’t find us again,” she said. “And if they do, I will kill them.” If she was surprised to see Wrathion up and about, she didn’t show it. “It’s good to see you’ve rejoined us, Your Majesty.”

“It’s not like I went anywhere,” Wrathion managed to force out through a spectacular mouthful of food. “Did we really fight a pride of saberon?”

The mood shifted immediately. Right drew in on herself, and Left dropped her gaze away from Wrathion. “If you want to call it a fight.” The disgust was evident in her voice. “We were caught off guard, and allowed you to be injured. By any reasonable measure, we’ve failed as your guards.”

Wrathion paused mid-bite and looked uncertainly back and forth between them. “Ah, well, I don’t really remember it, so there’s no need to worry. I’m not angry with you.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I can’t expect you to notice threats I can’t detect myself!” He waved his hand at them in a vague _stand down_ sort of gesture. “I was only curious. I wish I’d been awake for it. Do you have any idea what they wanted from us?”

“No,” said Anduin and Right at once.

At the same time, Left said “Yes.” Everyone turned to look at her, and she shrugged defensively. “It didn’t come up before now. The saberon have been stealing technology from the Iron Horde, but they don’t know how it works. They wanted us to tell them how to operate some of the weapons they stole.”

“And did you?” Wrathion asked, raising an eyebrow. “They are dangerous enough even with the level of weaponry that they have.”

Left shrugged again. “It was made clear to me that I would not get my crossbow back unless one of them was allowed to watch me repair it. They had taken it apart completely in some rudimentary attempt to understand its workings. I do not believe that they understood it well enough to replicate it, even after seeing me work on it.”

Anduin thought she’d made the smart choice. Seeing how all the parts fit together on a weapon wasn’t the same as knowing how to build one, and if she’d refused they could have hurt Wrathion. The wisdom of it was clear, although he too was apprehensive about the idea of the saberon picking up new technology. Hopefully Left’s assessment of their intelligence as a whole was correct.

Wrathion frowned and scratched his head, wincing when he accidentally brushed the sore spot. He didn’t say anything, and for the next several minutes got increasingly agitated. Anduin watched him warily, wondering if he was going to come back with an angry outburst. Eventually he sighed and hung his head. “I want to do something about that, but I can’t think of anything,” he admitted through gritted teeth. “I remember what you told me, Left, but I can’t make it fit together.” He tapped on his forehead with one finger, as if that would help him explain.

“Don’t push yourself.” Anduin got his attention by putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll recover faster if you don’t try to force it. We can come back here later if it turns out to be a problem, but Left doesn’t think we have to worry about it, so let’s not.” He couldn’t let Wrathion dwell on the things he couldn’t do yet, he knew from experience that focusing on that during the recovery period would only discourage him. It would be better if he could get Wrathion to think about what he could do. “For now, we should get out of here,” he said. “I don’t want to spend another night in that hole, it’s probably crawling with spiders.” He gave an exaggerated shudder, and succeeded at getting a small smile out of Wrathion. “Are you feeling well enough to walk?”

“I’ll leave that to the judgment of my capable healer.” Wrathion said, lowering his head in a deferential gesture. “If you deem me fit to travel, then I suppose I am.”

Anduin knew Wrathion was making fun of him, but he still felt a slight swell of pride at the compliment and decided to run with it. If he was Wrathion’s _capable healer_ then he was going to make some decisions. “You’ve been up and about for a while now,” he said. “If you’re not feeling dizzy then I’d say you’re fit to travel. Did you want to keep investigating those shrines, or have we decided that’s too dangerous?” He ended his question with a pointed look around, hopefully making it clear which answer he would accept. Wrathion’s investigation had, so far, yielded very few results and had cost them quite a bit.

“That’s a good question.” Wrathion turned to Right. “Did we ever finish looking at those? You’ll have to refresh my memory. If we found anything significant, I’ll naturally want to follow up on it.”

“We only got to look at the first one,” Right said. “You said it was interesting but without a greater context you probably wouldn’t be able to determine if it was important or not. We were going to look at the others just in case when we were attacked.” She paused for a moment. “We can go back up to take another look if you really want, but I would prefer to stay away from the pride’s home unless absolutely necessary.”

“Ah, no, that’s all right.” Wrathion shook his head slowly. “I believe you. It really is a shame I can’t remember, maybe it will come back to me.”

Anduin watched him carefully as he stood up. Still wobbly on his feet, Wrathion was clearly still feeling the effects of his injury more than he wanted to let on. He managed to gather himself after a moment, and set off confidently in a direction he’d apparently chosen at random. Left and Right followed closely, near enough to grab him if he fell but maintaining enough distance that it wasn’t obvious they were concerned. Anduin followed after them, thankful that for once he didn’t feel like he needed to rush to keep up. Wrathion was keeping himself at a slow pace, taking obstacles carefully and minimizing the amount he moved his head.

They had to stop frequently. Wrathion framed it as “getting my bearings,” but the way he sat on the ground for the duration of each break, head down and breathing hard, told a different story. After watching him push himself through most of the morning, Anduin sat next to him on one of the breaks and quietly put a hand to Wrathion’s head. He knew that at this point his magic could only push the pain back, maybe speed the healing of the injury slightly. It wouldn’t do much to ease the pain beyond the immediate moment, once he stopped healing it would return. Wrathion welcomed the respite though, closing his eyes at once and leaning into Anduin, his usual defensiveness of his personal space momentarily gone.

Wrathion could have died. Anduin was only just beginning to allow that to process, now that the immediate danger had passed and all that was left was the gradual healing. If he’d been alone, if the saberon had hit just a little harder, if they hadn’t been curious about the newcomers to their world, Wrathion would have been killed and there wouldn’t be anything left of him for Anduin to heal. He wouldn’t get to feel Wrathion’s heartbeat moving the blood through his veins, slower than a human’s and strong despite everything. There would be no more arguments, or jokes, or games.

“Is everything all right?” Wrathion’s voice, real and very much alive, cut into his thoughts and he realized that he’d let his hand fall from where it had been resting on Wrathion’s head. His healing spell was going into Wrathion’s shoulder, where it would be of no benefit to anybody.

Embarrassed, Anduin stopped his spell, but didn’t take his hand back. It was comforting to be able to touch Wrathion, reassure himself through his warmth and his presence that he was all right. “Yes, everything’s fine,” he said. “I just got a little distracted.” He looked off to the side to avoid meeting Wrathion’s curious gaze, and thankfully Wrathion didn’t ask any questions. Maybe he understood.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, when Wrathion’s shoulder tensed all of a sudden. Anduin thought he was going to stand, but when he looked up he saw that Wrathion’s face was contorted in pain. Alarmed, he reached up to begin healing again, only to have his hand blocked by one of Wrathion’s.

“No, wait, not you, hang on,” Wrathion fumbled out. He wasn’t looking at Anduin, he was staring off into empty space. “Hold that thought.” Then he turned back to Anduin and broke into a huge smile. “My agents! One of my agents just contacted me! Says he’s been trying to get through for days, thought I was dead.”

It took a minute for all the implications of that statement to sink in, but when they did Anduin could hardly keep himself from jumping up in excitement. “That means they’re sending more than just military defenders to this world, doesn’t it? Your agent must be here on Draenor, your gems don’t work across worlds, do they?”

“That they do not,” Wrathion said in a tone of barely contained glee. “Give me just a few minutes, I’ll speak to him and find out what he knows. We may be in a better situation than I assumed.” He stood up and paced quickly a few yards down the path, where he stood under a tree and had a brief, whispered conversation with somebody Anduin could not see.

He came back smiling, although he was holding his head and stumbling slightly. “I have news! No, it’s okay,” he added quickly when Anduin moved to steady him. “Connecting magically with someone so far away is always a little disorienting, it’s just given me a bit of a headache.” Sitting heavily, he pulled out his water bottle and took several large gulps before continuing. “My agent tells me that non-military fighters and explorers were allowed into Draenor just recently, following the disarming of the Dark Portal. We saw it from here, do you remember? We just didn’t know what it was. The bad news is that several dangerous individuals who were otherwise contained are now free. The good news is that we’re winning.” He looked almost manic, and had to take another few moments to compose himself. “There haven’t been any major battles since the portal was closed, but the armies of Azeroth have been consistently coming out ahead in skirmishes, and they’re sending out troops to build army settlements all across Draenor. There is, in fact, an Alliance ship headed toward this region around the coast.”

It was a lot of news to filter through at once, and Anduin had the impression that Wrathion was giving them the short version. Overall though, his spirits were lifted immensely. Even just the knowledge that their allies were out there, gaining ground and getting ever nearer would be enough reason to celebrate. Anduin hugged himself tightly, because he didn’t think Wrathion would appreciate being grabbed. “We should find them! There are probably only a few good landing sites around the coast here, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out where they’re going to be.”

“You’ve forgotten I’m a criminal,” Wrathion said. “Much as I would enjoy the safety that a large group of soldiers could provide, I doubt that they would be willing to lend me any assistance. I would need to have some kind of leverage with them to escape being imprisoned.”

“It’s not like we’re completely empty-handed,” Anduin argued. “We could help them too. Most of them will just be getting here, we all have much more experience with Draenor than they do. We could help them figure out where they are, tell them what to watch out for, that sort of thing. For example,” he waved his hand in the general direction of the saberon pride’s valley, “the location of a very dangerous group of aggressive locals. That’s the sort of information that could be bargained with.”

Wrathion let out a quiet laugh. “That’s a start, and it’s not a bad idea, but it’s not enough. We don’t know much more about this place than they do, and we only have so much information that might actually be worth anything. We’d need something else.” He stopped, an odd look on his face. “Actually, there’s something to that. Depending on how many of my agents made it here…” He trailed off, lost in thought.

Anduin waited, and when Wrathion didn’t finish that thought he turned to Left and Right with a questioning look. “He’s trying to locate his connections with other agents,” Right whispered. “It could take all day. In the meantime let’s keep moving, he’ll stop us if he needs to.”

* * *

 

 Once he started looking for them, they were everywhere. Some of them answered his tentative searching eagerly, jumping at the chance to speak with their Prince after such a separation. Others were more reluctant. His departure, with very little forewarning, felt like an abandonment. Those were the ones Wrathion had to explain himself to, ask nicely for their continued cooperation. Once or twice he even had to _apologize_ , even though his agents should never have expected to be let in on every last one of his plans. The momentary indignity would be worth it, he needed contacts now more than he needed to worry about insubordination.

Still others, some of his agents who had maintained ties to the Horde, were silent. He supposed he couldn’t blame them, as frustrating as it was. First he’d decided to back the Alliance, then he’d ruined what they must have seen as their chance for redemption in the eyes of the rest of Azeroth. This was exactly why he asked his closest employees to sever their bonds with previous factions. He expected that it would take years to rebuild a base of champions within the Horde, but to lose some of his Blacktalons over petty faction concerns was a slap in the face. They were dead to him, he decided, and stopped just short of extinguishing his connections with them altogether. It might still be useful to know where they were, at least, in case they took it into their heads to come after him.

He had to do his searching in waves, because each time he made a successful connection it intensified his headache and made his ears ring. Some of his agents did not mind being cut off almost immediately, others would need some pacifying later on. Trying to focus on them, ignoring the shooting pains in his head, and paying attention to where he was going quickly turned out to be too much for him. He wound up staring at the ground, following the direction of Anduin’s feet and barely thinking about his immediate surroundings. Part of him was screaming that it was stupid and risky to make himself so vulnerable when he had already been attacked once. He did his best to tune that part out. This was important.

Such was his focus on this task that when the others stopped, he kept going. He would have wandered away entirely without noticing if Left hadn’t reached out and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. “Your Majesty, we’re stopping.”

The sudden stop nearly made him lose his balance. Shaking himself to regain his footing, he ignored Anduin’s efforts not to laugh and addressed Left. “What for? I’m not tired, and with the pace we’re going the rest of you shouldn’t be either.”

Left pointed out through a gap in two peaks. “Right’s seen a sail.”

At first he couldn't remember the significance of those words, although he could tell that it was important news. He had to stop and run back through the day in his head, several times. Had they talked about ships that morning? No, it was more recent than that. _Come on Wrathion_ , he told himself. _You can remember_. Then, just as Left looked like she was going to say something to remind him, he did remember. Now that was worth stopping him over. Right’s eyesight was excellent, for a human, and had never let him down before. Shifting into his dragon form, Wrathion carefully flapped up to the top of a nearby tree to get a better look. The winds were stronger up there, bending the tree back down toward the ground, and he had to cling on tightly with his claws to keep from being blown away. After a moment he got the hang of moving his head with the tree to stabilize his vision, and he could just barely make out the top of a mast out past the hills where the ocean must be. From a distance it didn’t look to be moving very fast, but he could tell from the full sail and the flag blown strongly back that it must be making a very good pace.

Getting down from the tree was a more complex maneuver than getting up it. He had to carefully time it so he could release his grip in a lull between gusts of wind, and drop down to the ground before it picked up again. It was swift and left much to be desired in terms of grace. He could not _wait_ to hit his growth spurt and have his wingspan lengthen.

“That’s the one,” he reported once he was safely back on the ground. “Alliance vessel, it’s too far to see the details of the flag but it was definitely blue.” He changed back to human form. “It’s sailing very close to shore, probably looking for a landing place. Anduin, give me your compass.”

“Say please,” Anduin said, but he was already taking out the compass so Wrathion didn’t feel any need to respond. He just took the compass when Anduin offered it, and checked it. It wasn’t really necessary, after having been conscious for most of the day he had a pretty good idea where they were, but it never hurt to be sure.

“They’re heading North,” he announced. “We should move down to the coast, and follow it as closely as we can. We’re bound to find their landing site sooner or later.” If it turned out that there was nothing he could use to gain a safe entrance into the Alliance camp, it would still be useful to know where they were based. And if it turned out that he did have something, then it would be best to act quickly.

Normally he preferred to be a little more sure of his options before jumping into action, this felt like he was making things up as he went along. It had been necessary more and more since they’d arrived here, and he didn’t think he would ever be good at it. That was why he had to heal up quickly, so he could focus, and get back to thinking about more than just short-term survival. He set off toward the coast and heard the others follow him without question, and that was something.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ends a chapter on a very abrupt note at the sudden arrival of my entire family* Merry Christmas everybody.

Their view of the coast was obstructed as they walked by hills and trees. Only when the path curved in a certain way could they get a glimpse of it, and often Anduin felt like they’d made good progress only to see when the view opened up and he could look into the distance that they had barely moved at all. Part of it was an illusion he was familiar with, part of it was simply that they were not moving at a very rapid pace. Long before they were anywhere near the water, the Alliance vessel had disappeared around the side of a large peak. The last time they had seen it, it had shown no signs of changing course, so the best they could do was keep moving and hope that nothing unexpected had happened.

“They’re very fast,” Wrathion commented. He was looking better all the time, staying alert and active was doing wonders for him, but he was still moving sluggishly.

Anduin couldn’t help smiling with pride. “The sailors in the Alliance fleet are some of the best in Azeroth.” For a journey like this, the crew of the ship would be hand-selected by the top military leaders of the Alliance, his father among them. Once or twice, he had helped his father compile lists of assignments for similar missions, sailing runs into hostile territory. Varian seemed to know every sailor in Stormwind’s navy by name, as well as many of the top naval officers in the Darnassian and Gilnean fleets. It was a staggering amount of information to have to remember, but his father always made it look easy, and he would always take the time to help Anduin remember as well.

Although it was a happy memory, Anduin forced it down as quickly as he could. That way lay homesickness, an emotion he could not afford to feel. He could feel it creeping up on him, just the sight of an Alliance ship had been enough to stir memories of the last time he’d been away from home in am uncharted land, and how good it had been to see his father again after months of tension and mounting conflict with the Horde. This was a different situation, but he couldn’t help seeing some parallels. He wondered if the Horde would be sending people to form a settlement in the Spires as well, and if that would be trouble. As best as he could tell, the Horde and Alliance had been working together to combat the Iron Horde. However, he knew from experience that having a common enemy didn’t always mean a guarantee of peace.

“Everyone, wait.” Wrathion stopped in his tracks, holding up one hand to signal the stop. “I smell something up ahead. One of you go take a look.”

Right slipped away at once, prowling down the path while Left took up a defensive stance in front of Wrathion. If Anduin hadn’t seen them do this so many times, it might have been frightening the way they could shut off all other concerns and immediately drop into kill mode. Wrathion smelled something suspicious at least twice a day, and normally it turned out to be animals or their abandoned dens. Anduin sat on the ground near Wrathion, glad for the break. Soon Right would be back, and would tell them what it was and how to avoid it. Until then, he might as well rest his legs.

“How’s your head?” he asked Wrathion. “Need me to heal it any more?”

“Not right now, thank you.” Wrathion smiled at him. “I don’t expect we’ll be stopped for long, the smell really is overpowering, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it. Right should be able to find out what it is without any trouble.” Despite his confidence that they would be moving again soon, he sat down as well and started tracing patterns in the dirt with one extended claw.

Anduin studied him for a few minutes. It wasn’t often he got the opportunity, Wrathion took most extended attention as either a threat or an insult. He was looking a little worse for wear. They all were, Anduin had just assumed that Wrathion’s appearance in human form was dictated by magic. He hadn’t thought it would be possible for the clothes he wore to fray or stain, just as he knew scars or blemishes would fade from Wrathion’s human skin over time. It had been a long few days, perhaps Wrathion just didn’t have the energy to maintain them. It seemed like he barely had the energy to keep leading them forward, and yet he continued to push himself on. His injury was forcing him to spend more time resting, but it still was barely as much as he should have been getting in the first place. More and more, Anduin was starting to wonder about their purpose here. With armies clashing on a grand scale, civilizations falling to internal conflict, and dark forces at work all across the land, could a band of four travelers really make any difference at all? He’d thought so when they started out, he’d been sure of it.

If only he could remember that feeling. He sighed heavily, attracting Wrathion’s attention. Brushing the dirt off his hand, Wrathion looked at him suspiciously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

_There he goes again_ , Anduin thought. Out loud, he said “I don’t know, Wrathion. I don’t know what I look like.” It came out sounding more irritated than he’d intended, and he watched Wrathion’s face fall. He sighed again, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound angry. Sometimes I just want to look at you, do you have to act like it’s such a bad thing?”

Wrathion’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, then he turned to look off to the side. “I guess not,” he said, going back to sketching things in the dirt.

Left briefly looked back at them to raise an eyebrow at Anduin. Anduin stuck his tongue out at her. Dealing with Wrathion was difficult enough on its own, he didn’t need any help from the peanut gallery. Wrathion’s priorities didn’t match up with those of anyone else he’d ever met, sometimes he got happy or upset at things that didn’t make any sense to Anduin. Was that because he was a dragon, or was it just because he was _Wrathion?_ Anduin sometimes wished he could ask Jaina if she ever had similar problems relating to Kalec, but he’d learned early on in their friendship that talking too much about Wrathion wasn’t a good idea when Jaina was around.

He hadn’t even talked about Wrathion that much, at least not that he could remember. Maybe he’d mentioned him once or twice in his letters, repeated back some of the ridiculous things he’d said during one of his rare visits with Jaina. Nothing that should have caused her to form such a horrible impression. It was difficult for him to remember that the friendly, trusting Jaina he remembered from his childhood was no longer someone he could reach. The new Jaina was on guard all the time, and suspicious of anyone who, like Wrathion, could not prove themselves an ally. It hadn’t taken her long to pick up on Anduin’s enthusiasm about his new friend, and it had taken her even less time to decide she didn’t like it.

Not that she’d ever said as much to his face, but everyone always seemed to forget that Anduin had eyes and Jaina had never been as good at hiding her thoughts as she thought she was. He knew what it meant when adults went out of their way to be politely interested, and he could see the small frown that showed up on her face whenever Wrathion was mentioned. She was worried about him, as if he couldn’t be trusted to make good choices where Wrathion was concerned. What was worse was that Anduin was fairly sure she’d talked to his father about it. The idea of Varian knowing about Wrathion had always made him somewhat uneasy, and he’d deliberately avoided saying anything about him in his letters home.

And yet somehow Varian had known about him anyway. When Anduin told Jaina that Wrathion was present at the trial, he’d gotten a gentle, well-meaning, and painfully uncomfortable talk later in the day about _be careful who you trust, son_ and _make sure you’re keeping an eye on that dragon_. He’d somehow managed to hold his tongue, pointing out that Varian had never even met Wrathion and that of the two of them he had a worse history with trusting dragons would not have been a constructive addition to the conversation. At the time, he’d been thinking that if he ever wanted to be able to introduce his father to Wrathion without a fight then comparisons to Onyxia should be avoided. That dream, however distant it had been, was now completely out of reach.

* * *

 

 Right returned before too long, just as Wrathion had predicted, looked markedly less calm than she had when she’d set out. “It’s fish you smell,” she reported to him. “Huge ones, pulled up on the beach by more saberon. They’ve got practically an entire village’s worth of fishers and guards down there. We must still be their territory.”

Wrathion grimanced, the ever-present headache increased and he felt sick to his stomach. Mentally, he scolded himself for having such a reaction. They’d been caught off guard the first time, in a fair fight he knew they could handle as many saberon as the pride could throw at them. And he hadn’t even been conscious for the duration of their experience with the saberon, he couldn’t even remember any of it. There was absolutely no reason to be afraid, and yet the idea of taking another step down the path the beach made his feet feel like lead and his heart pound in his chest. A quick glance over at Anduin told him that he wasn’t the only one feeling that way.

He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should go a different way, then. Stay away from the coast until we’re certain it’s safe. Any ship’s crew will think twice about landing on a shore swarming with enemies, even if they are the best the Alliance has to offer. I think it’s safe to say they won’t be stopping here.”

Anduin voiced the most obvious flaw. “How will we know when we’ve left the saberon’s territory? We might walk right past the ship’s landing site without even knowing it.”

If only he could fly here, Wrathion thought, he could go up above the peaks and then everything would be clear. He would know exactly where the borders of the saberon’s territory were, and he would be able to pinpoint the places where the ship was most likely to stop. It wasn’t natural for a dragon to be stuck on the ground, he was sure it was slowly driving him mad, but the momentary relief of a good flight would not be worth the risk of being blown to pieces against the side of a mountain.

“We’ll find a place we know is safe, and then double back if we have to.” It would take longer, but Wrathion would do anything to avoid having to walk through the fishing grounds. Besides, he thought bitterly, it wasn’t like there was anything better to do. He always hated playing defensively, but that was exactly what he was having to do here. His enemies held all the cards, he had no idea where they were or what they were doing. The Iron Horde could be tracked, but now that the Dark Portal had been invaded and those kept captive underneath it were free, they were no longer a priority. A failed endeavor that had gotten out of his hands, but once which was seemingly well on its way to containment. It was important not to let himself get distracted by them, and focus on the real threat. He couldn’t simply ignore the treasure trove of valuable information that had sailed so obligingly right in front of him.

With less certainty than before, he led the way back along the path. They would circle the peak, he decided, and check on the other side to see whether or not it would be feasible to continue following the coast from there. There were dangers on this stretch of road as well, but they were nothing more than animals. Easy to scare away, or to defeat if it came to that.

It wasn’t long before he had to stop again. Although it had improved overall throughout the day, his headache was persistent and when he spent too much time on his feet he became dizzy. The fact that his thoughts were beginning to flow together with something approaching normalcy was a comfort, even if his pride was suffering from his lack of strength. Anduin approached him when he stopped, as had been his habit since they’d hit the road again. It could have been annoying, but Wrathion didn’t hold it against him. Anduin wanted to help him, and didn’t understand why Wrathion kept turning down his offers of healing.

Wrathion didn’t quite understand either. One touch from Anduin, and he knew the pain would recede. Having Anduin heal him felt close, and warm, and safe in a way that very few things could replicate. He had a half-formed sort of idea that it was something of a waste, that it would be selfish of him to allow Anduin to spend his energy on a healing spell that had so little effect. His injuries were healing on their own, Anduin had never trained in healing complex head injuries and so he did not feel confident enough to attempt it.

Much as he hated to admit it, what he needed more than anything was rest. It had been a short day, with a late start and now an early stop, the tops of the peaks still had sunlight on them, but Wrathion was ready to drop. Calling Left and Right over, he told them to start coordinating a watch, making it clear that this was where they would be staying for the night. There was nothing around to serve as cover, maybe they should keep a fire going to scare away nocturnal beasts. On second thought, he decided right away, no fire. He didn’t want to draw anyone to their location.

The ground was rocky and cold, not the kind of place he would choose to spend the night if there were any visible alternatives. He watched Anduin digging out some of the bigger stones from where he wanted to sleep with sympathy. They didn’t have room to carry anything more than a light blanket each, so there wasn’t much to be done when the location didn’t allow for a comfortable resting place. Wrathion usually slept in his dragon form, so he could avoid the larger rocks and wasn’t heavy enough for the smaller ones to bother him, but Anduin was limited to a fixed size. He would be sore in the morning.

“Why not pool our resources?” he said, pointing Anduin toward the pack he’d discarded when they stopped. “You can take my blanket, fold it up on the ground. It won’t do much, but it might help a little.”

Anduin hesitated. “You’re not going to use it?”

“Don’t need to.” Wrathion transformed in a puff of smoke and settled smugly down on top of a small flat rock. “I don’t need anything like that to keep me warm, and dragons are capable of resting comfortably anywhere we want to.” That applied mostly to older dragons, his scales hadn’t quite thickened enough to make a stone seem like a good bed, but Anduin didn’t need to know that. There was no doubt that he was the one who would benefit the most from Wrathion’s blanket.

Still Anduin waited, one hand on Wrathion’s bag, as if he expected Wrathion to say _just kidding_ and grab it back. “Are you sure?”

Wrathion gave an exaggerated yawn and made a show of stretching out on the rock. “Very sure,” he said, moderating his tone so he sounded bored rather than concerned or kind. “I’m not going to use it, so it will just sit uselessly in my bag if you don’t take it. But if you’d rather sleep on the cold ground, be my guest.” He put his head down and pretended to go to sleep, but kept one eye cracked just a little to watch what Anduin would do.

To his satisfaction, Anduin reached into his bag and carefully pulled out the blanket, taking care not to disturb any of the other things inside it. That was good, it would have been embarrassing if he’d had to _make_ Anduin take it. It was one thing if Anduin thought he was doing something nice because it was easy to do and wouldn’t have any impact on him. It would be another thing entirely if Anduin got the impression that he was going out of his way to do something nice for him. He wasn’t a nice person. Anduin was just an exception, and he didn’t feel like explaining himself to anyone.

“Thank you,” Anduin said, apparently not fooled by Wrathion’s feigned sleep. “I appreciate it.” He paused, folding the blanket in half and placing it on the ground, then spoke again in a quieter voice. “If you change your mind, you’re welcome to share with me.”

It was a tempting offer, so much so that Wrathion almost immediately took him up on it. Anduin would be soft and warm, where his spot on the rock was cold and rough. He could curl up under the blanket, rest his head on Anduin’s stomach, and be asleep in moments. Although his unconsciousness the previous day had been induced by his injuries and a magic potion, he remembered it through a haze as being one of the more comfortable rests he’d had in recent memory. Before he could reply, he stopped himself. He’d already gone to such lengths to indicate that he was fine here, changing his mind would reflect badly on him.

Anduin seemed to take his silence as a refusal and lay down, leaving Wrathion to continue debating with himself. A large part of himself, one with a very loud voice, wanted nothing more than to get up and join Anduin, to lie beside him and feel his warmth, hear his breaths, take in his scent. That, he told himself, was a very inconvenient thing to want. He could stay here in Draenor for a long time, years if he had to. Anduin, on the other hand, did not have the same luxury of time. Eventually his responsibilities as a Prince of the Alliance would catch up to him, it was a matter of _when_ , not _if_. When that happened he would have to go back, and Wrathion would have to let him go, whether either of them wanted that or not. His time with Anduin was on a time limit, and so he couldn’t go and get himself attached.

Well, more attached than he already was. He’d already made his peace with feeling some degree of attachment to Anduin, it was hard to rationalize taking him out of Stormwind and bringing him along on this trip otherwise. But there hadn’t been any harm in that. Having Anduin along had been a big help, even if it had been less of a fun adventure than he’d planned for. In fact, Anduin had been a vital member of their team at several times, and there was part of the danger of it. If he let himself rely on Anduin, got to the point where Anduin’s presence was something he needed rather than something he wanted, then it would throw a massive wrench in his plans once Anduin’s time on Draenor ran out. That point was already too close for comfort. Maybe he’d reached it already, he didn’t know how to tell.

Growling under his breath, he shifted around on his rock in an attempt to get comfortable. It was scratching at his scales, but he would live. All he had to do was rid his mind of the knowledge that a better option was available to him, which meant he had to think about something else. The saberon pride. Tracking the Alliance ship. When they found it, whoever was in charge would want to send Anduin home. _No_ , not a good trail of thought. He puffed out an angry breath and tried again. Sleep. _Good_ sleep, not the kind that had come from his injuries, where he’d felt like he was floating away in a pool of his own thoughts. Anduin holding him steady, calling him back to reality with magic that was cool and calming and- _no_.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, opened his eyes, got up and stretched. How long had he been lying there, trying to beckon sleep? It had seemed so present earlier, and now it was floating frustratingly near but always just out of reach. The sun had gone down, everything in the Spires was a dusky purple. Left and Right were sitting together nearby, neither one of them tired enough to take the first shift of rest, whispering to each other. They both looked over when he stirred, but once they saw that everything was peaceful they went back to their conversation, speaking in a blend of Common and Orcish that was entirely their own.

Wrathion remembered a time when he’d been curious about what they said to each other at times like these. Then he’d gotten a little older, and realized that it was better not to try to find out. He allowed them their secrets, just as they allowed him to have his. All the same, there was something about their closeness, the way they could communicate volumes to each other with just a word or a gesture, that made his heart hurt. He thought the feeling must be envy. Even with his enchanted gems allowing him to see through the eyes of his agents and champions, there was still nothing to compare to that kind of bond.

A slight shifting noise caught his attention as Anduin turned over, and something inside Wrathion snapped. _Oh forget it_ , he thought. Was Anduin asleep? He didn’t care. He was already in over his head, there was no point in making himself miserable when he didn’t have to. As quietly as he could, he got to his feet and hopped down to the ground, making his way over to where Anduin was lying under his blanket, only the top of his head sticking out. Wrathion lifted a forelimb and gently prodded his side. When he received no response, he quietly walked around to Anduin’s front. He wouldn’t stay long, he told himself. Just a few minutes, just long enough to settle his head so he could get to sleep. Then he would go back to his rock, and pretend that this had never happened.

He slowly walked out on top of the blanket and eased himself into the gap between Anduin’s chest and his legs, which were drawn up to keep his feet tucked under the blanket. Almost at once he could feel himself relaxing, melting down into the warmth now surrounding him on all sides. Yes, this was what he wanted, exactly this, he closed his eyes and pushed himself closer on reflex. All thoughts of getting up and going back to his own space were gone. He could feel Anduin’s stomach moving with his breaths, soft and slow, and felt his own breathing slow to match it. There was no way he could move now. Early in the morning he would get up, Anduin would be none the wiser, and there would be no uncomfortable conversations. For now he just wanted to rest.

* * *

 

Morning broke slowly, as it always did in the valleys between the peaks. The first low light of dawn spread across the sky, but would not be followed by the sunrise for some time. Anduin woke up from it anyway, because his sleep had been light and the world was demanding his attention in the form of a twisted root that was poking up through the ground and jabbing him in the side whenever he moved in his sleep. From the moment he opened his eyes, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, although he didn’t feel very awake either. He yawned and sat up, taking in his surroundings to ground himself back in reality. There was his pack, there was the trail, there was Right sitting quietly nearby to keep watch.

And there was Wrathion, still curled up tightly against his side. Anduin smiled down at him. So he hadn’t been dreaming, then, when he felt Wrathion approaching him during the night. He hadn’t been sure at the time, so he’d opted to go back to sleep without taking any further notice of it. Now that he was awake, he supposed that maybe he should do something. Ask Wrathion if this was going to be a regular thing maybe, if he’d meant anything by it. On the other hand, if he woke Wrathion this early he would be crabby, and it would go against all his training as a healer to disturb a recovering patient’s rest.

So, breakfast then. He would get up, get his limbs working again, and wait until he was fully awake before he said anything to Wrathion. Decision made, it should have been easy to put his plans into action, but it was startlingly chilly and his body rebelled against the idea of getting up. Despite being tucked away under the blanket, his feet felt like blocks of ice, and he knew it would only be colder out in the open air. He lay back down, squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and counted to ten. Then he carefully lifted the blanket and slid his legs out the side, so he could get up without disturbing Wrathion.

Walking quietly through a sleeping camp was hard at the best of times, harder still when his legs were sore and numb from a full night’s sleep. He dearly missed his bed back in Stormwind, even the cot he’d slept on during his stay on the Timeless Isle had been _something_. Nobody stirred when he stumbled, though, Left and Wrathion both trusted Right completely to guard the camp. If she wasn’t telling them to wake up, they would sleep through most small disturbances.

She looked up at him and nodded slightly when he passed her. He nodded back, not yet quite ready to have a conversation with anyone. It was too early. Grabbing his water and a handful of dried edible roots from his pack, he sat near her to eat. The roots were tough and tasted bland, but he was sleepy enough not to care and didn’t have it in him to attempt a more complicated meal. He chewed slowly, watching the sky gradually lighten until his mind caught up with the day’s agenda and he felt like a complete person again.

When Wrathion finally woke up, it was comical to see. He opened his eyes, stretched, and then froze with a visible jolt of surprise when he realized where he was. Anduin watched him, amused, out of the corner of his eye. With an air of casualness that was so complete it had to be feigned, Wrathion got up and assumed his human form again. Then he left the camp without a word, stopping only to make sure his knives were tucked away firmly in their sheaths. He carried himself with the unmistakable light-footed grace of a hunter, moving silently away until Anduin lost sight of him. So, Wrathion was feeling well enough to catch his own food again. That was good. Whatever he was thinking, hunting for his breakfast would help him to process it.

He didn’t bring anything back with him, but returned about half an hour later with a satisfied smile on his face, so Anduin knew that the hunt must have been successful. “Good morning,” he said, waving Wrathion over. “Did you sleep well?”

The expressions that passed across Wrathion’s face did so rapidly enough that he couldn’t parse them. “Passably, I suppose,” he answered, once he’d gotten his face to settle back into his usual mask of cool indifference. “What about you?” He turned away without waiting for Anduin’s answer and set to work stuffing everything back into his bag.

“Pretty well,” Anduin said, grinning at him. “I was expecting to be cold, but I had some unexpected help with that.”

Wrathion grumbled something under his breath but didn’t look up. Anduin watched him for a moment, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He just kept reorganizing his pack, although Anduin knew that he was just moving things around and putting them back again. Wrathion wasn’t going to play along, so it was time to be direct.

“I just want you to know,” he started, then paused. It was hard to know what he should say. Wrathion had stopped digging in his pack, he hadn’t turned around but he was perfectly still and Anduin knew he was listening. He had to say something. “Just that, if you wanted to do that again, I wouldn’t mind.”

He knew Wrathion had heard him, because there were no other noises to block him out, and Wrathion had been paying attention. Still, he did not move and he did not speak. Anduin waited, willing himself to be patient. It was complicated for him too, if Wrathion needed a few minutes then that was the least he could give.

Finally, Wrathion moved. It wasn’t to look at him, it was to turn to Left and Right, who were standing a short distance away. Giving them space, Anduin realized. “You two,” Wrathion said, and his voice sounded as confident as ever. “Scout ahead, find out where the path leads and see if you can get a glimpse of the shore.” He waited until they’d moved off, then finally turned back to Anduin. “All right,” he said. “If you insist on continuing to talk about it, now is your chance. You have until they get back.” 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You, the hypothetical reader, will notice that this chapter sucks. This is because I wrote 3/4 of it in the past 24 hours. It hasn't been a good week. Bear with me guys.

Wrathion was, if nothing else, a very willful person. Anduin knew from months of firsthand experience that it was nearly impossible to talk him into anything, or change his mind once he was set on something. If he did not want to do something, he wouldn’t do it, and no amount of arguing would change that. Therefore, the fact that he had agreed to sit and have at least a short conversation when he very clearly did not want to was a big deal, and Anduin intended to make the most of it.

“I don’t know what you want,” he started. It wasn’t a good start, but he had the feeling that a good start was something that would be impossible for him to find. Any start was better than no start, so rather than backtracking and trying to rephrase it, he kept going. “You act like you want to be close to me, sometimes, but then when I try to get closer to you it upsets you. You said we were friends, but is that what you want? Do you want me to back off, or something?” The idea that Wrathion might not want to be friends was one that he worried about sometimes, but recognized as unlikely. It was more likely that Wrathion was trying to tell him something, and he just wasn’t getting it.

Wrathion sat with his arms folded and his eyes narrowed, glaring off into the middle distance. At least he wasn’t breathing smoke or storming off. His shoulders were tense, but there was no anger in his voice when he answered. “What I want isn’t important, Anduin Wrynn.”

“Oh come on, that’s not true.” Anduin smiled at him and went to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Just as important as what the rest of us want, at least.” If Wrathion was struggling with his nerves again, it would be best to try and handle that before it got any worse.

Wrathion made a half-hearted effort to shrug his hand off, but in the end allowed him to keep it there. “That isn’t what I meant.” He looked down, tapping his foot on the ground, and made several aborted attempts at speech before actually forming another sentence. “You don’t like being here.”

Unable to deny it but unwilling to upset him, Anduin shrugged noncommittally. “It’s frustrating that we don’t know anything that’s happening,” he admitted. “And it feels like we’re always running for our lives from something.” He laughed, hoping to turn it into a joke. It fell flat. “I don’t know, Wrathion,” he said. “It feels like we don’t have a lot of resources, but that could change now that you’re back in touch with your agents. And if you’re worried that I don’t want to help you anymore, don’t be.” The worse things got, the more he felt it was important to stick together.

“No, that doesn’t worry me.” Wrathion shook his head. “You always want to help everyone, that’s the kind of person you are.” He smiled faintly when he said that, and Anduin felt himself mirroring the expression without thinking. Then the smile fell from Wrathion’s face. “But you know as well as I do that this trip has been a failure so far. Once we find your people, they will want you back, and as the Prince you have a responsibility to them that I know you cannot ignore.” He sat quietly for a moment, letting his words sink in. “That is why I said that what I want doesn’t matter. I have no claim to your company.”

He leaned back on his hands, staring up at the clouds. Anduin watched him, trying to formulate a good response. What Wrathion had said was true, if he received word that the people of Stormwind needed him back home, he couldn’t very well refuse. Still, he didn’t think that Wrathion’s viewpoint was entirely realistic. He had a certain air of pessimism to him that Anduin had tried to dismantle many times in the past, to very little success. When measured just by logical means, Wrathion did not carry as much significance as the entire kingdom of Stormwind, and in a choice between them, Anduin knew that his duties as the Prince had to take precedence. But that didn’t mean that Wrathion meant nothing to him.

“I don’t think I’m following you,” he said at last, taking his hand off Wrathion’s shoulder and leaning back to match him. “I get what you’re saying, but most people don’t think like that. If I had to make decisions based entirely on what was best in the long run, I’d never do anything.”

“I think like that because I have to.” Wrathion always sounded eerily cheerful when he talked about his place in the world, but now he just sounded sad. “I’m the only black dragon left, it’s up to me to do what my flight was charged with. I can’t afford to get distracted.”

“Am I a distraction, then?” Anduin grinned at him.

Wrathion sighed dramatically. “The worst kind.” He was smiling though, so Anduin knew he hadn’t gone over a line.

It was tempting to fall back into their comfortable routine of jokes and bickering. Anduin had to consciously turn himself away from that, telling himself to stay focused. Wrathion was trying to distract him from an uncomfortable subject, and he would back off the moment he felt like he’d gone too far, but so far that moment hadn’t arrived yet. It was a balancing act, keeping Wrathion on the same page as him.

So instead of firing back with a mild insult of his own, he took a moment to seriously consider what Wrathion was telling him, under the banter. Sometimes that was a challenge, but in this case the message was clear. Wrathion was telling him, although not directly, that he did not see companionship as something he could have. If it were a matter of mental capability, Anduin could argue that easily. Unfortunately, Wrathion had wrapped everything in his life up in his responsibilities, whether they were real or imagined.

“What about Left and Right?” he asked, because it was something he’d been wondering about. “Are they a distraction too? If you really think you have to take on all these duties by yourself, why keep anyone around?”

“If anything they keep me focused,” Wrathion answered. “They can handle the details, leaves me free to think about the big picture.” He looked down the path at the place where they’d vanished. “I suppose you’re right though, perhaps they are also a distraction. I often wonder what they think about my plans, if they’re being honest with me or just humoring me because I pay them.”

Anduin smiled, he could work with that. “You still keep them with you, though.”

“Well, yes.” Wrathion looked at him oddly. “You’ve seen how they handle themselves in emergencies. I could get by without them, but it wouldn’t be nearly as easy. Admit it, you wish that your guards back in Stormwind were half as competent.”

“No I don’t,” Anduin said. “If they were, I would never have another free moment.” He laughed at the expression on Wrathion’s face. “Okay, yes, I do think that the royal guard should have a longer mandatory training period, but that’s not really my point.” Composing himself, he shook his train of thought back on track again. “I’m just trying to say that you can’t treat real life like some kind of strategy game. You need to take a break sometimes, and do things that might not be exactly the best thing to do at that moment. It’s important to keep your goals in mind, but you have to make sure you’re happy in the meantime too.”

Wrathion hummed noncommittally. Anduin rolled his eyes and counted to ten. Was that supposed to mean something to him? Did Wrathion expect him to just understand what he was thinking? He hadn’t brushed Anduin off yet, or told him that he was out of time and needed to get moving. It was hard to know if that meant anything, either. Wrathion’s face was closed off, his eyes were shut now and he hadn’t looked directly at Anduin for the entire duration of their conversation. Whatever he was thinking or feeling, he was doing his best to make sure Anduin wouldn’t pick up on the slightest hint of it.

Out of the two of them, Anduin thought it was funny in a way how he was the one more likely to take risks. Wrathion’s plans were dangerous, but he’d often double checked the factors playing into them, and usually resisted taking any action unless he was sure that it would work out for him. Anduin preferred to act right away, and improvise once his ability to work within a situation became clear. He took a risk now, reaching out with his right hand to cover one of Wrathion’s while his left went up to brush a gentle healing spell against Wrathion’s head. “This won’t have any impact in the long run,” he said, watching Wrathion carefully for any signs of discomfort. “Is it okay?”

“Yes,” said Wrathion quietly. His eyes stayed closed and he was tense, but he let his head fall back into Anduin’s hand. Anduin finished the spell, having only intended to keep it going for a short time, and tucked a loose bit of fabric back into the wrapping of Wrathion’s turban. Then he slung his arm around Wrathion’s shoulder, not pulling him in or restricting him, just sitting there with him.

“What about this?” he asked, and couldn’t help squeezing slightly, the barest imitation of a hug. Wrathion was warm against his side. He felt like he was stepping out onto a narrow ledge, and wasn’t sure if his supports would hold him up. He had to fight to keep his breathing steady, and only managed to keep speaking in a whisper. “If I do this, will it ruin some far-reaching plan of yours?”

The ropes held, Wrathion shook his head. He was shaking now, his hand under Anduin’s was clenched into a fist. Then, without warning, he leaned in and thumped his head into Anduin’s chest so hard that for a moment Anduin thought it was an attempt to make him back off. He let go of Wrathion’s shoulder and made to stand up, but Wrathion grabbed onto his arms and held him down, pressing his face into the front of Anduin’s shirt.

“Wow, hey, all right.” Anduin sat back down, a little too quickly for it to be entirely comfortable, and wrapped his arms more firmly around Wrathion. He hadn’t been expecting any real response at all, much less such an enthusiastic one. “Are you okay? You shouldn’t do things like that, you’ll hurt your head again.”

“Too late for that.” Wrathion’s voice was muffled in his shirt. Anduin laughed and started another healing spell, pressing it down on Wrathion’s head and making him tighten his grip. “You’re going to be the death of me someday, Anduin Wrynn.”

“Well that makes us even then,” Anduin told him, turning his head to kiss the top of Wrathion’s and knowing he wouldn’t feel it through his turban. “I think you’re going to be the death of me too.”

* * *

 

 Following the road back down to the coast proved unnecessary. Left and Right returned with a report of hoofprints, apparently from a decently sized party, heading up from the coastline and down another turn in the road. Wrathion’s first instinct was that it had to be a trap. A clearly marked trail was too much to ask for, whoever left it would be expecting pursuit. Anduin countered his concerns by pointing out that if it was a trap, it couldn’t be for them. A landing party that ran afoul of saberon might be trying to clear them from the area, but there would be no reason for an Alliance crew to lay a trap for their errant prince.

“Besides,” he said. “If they really mean to start a settlement, they’ll have some people with them who aren’t trained soldiers. Not everyone knows how to hide a trail, and they’ll be prioritizing speed over stealth.” He set off down the road in high spirits, Wrathion followed him with a little more caution.

It took them several days to round the mountain, partially because Wrathion’s recovery was still slowing them down and partially because he was deliberately stalling. He had no idea what to expect once they found the Alliance settlement. Would they be so glad to see Anduin that they would skip all questioning and allow them access? He didn’t think that was likely. On the other hand, it also seemed unlikely that there would be open hostility. Anduin might not have the commanding presence of his father just yet, but he might hold some sway over the soldiers. It would depend on their method of arrival. They would have to be very careful not to stir up any trouble.

On the way, he asked Anduin so many questions about what they were most likely to find that he thought it was incredible that Anduin still wanted to spend time with him. He had plenty of experience with the Alliance, in the form of heroes and adventurers whose help he’d enlisted in the past. Of the formal army, he had only his research to rely on. Naturally that research was meticulous, he never did anything halfway, but why would he want to rely only on that when he had such a valuable primary source right by his side? He spent an entire day questioning Anduin about the standard size and composition of raiding parties, another day focusing on standard outpost layout and defenses, and so on.

Anduin tolerated it admirably well, although he visibly began to tire of all the questions sometime during the third day. As he pointed out, he did not have all the answers. Most of the finer details would be decided by the King, and although Anduin was in a better position than most to guess what those decisions might be, he didn’t have a lot of information about the situation.

“See, if my father thinks that beating the Iron Horde back will be easy, he’ll send one kind of force,” he explained wearily, for the third or fourth time, over a small meal one day. “But if he thinks it’s close. or if they’re winning, he’ll send another kind. I don’t know which it is, and that’s not even taking into account what kinds of warriors Vol’jin is sending, or how well the two factions are getting along right now.”

“So tell me which is most likely,” Wrathion insisted. “Or just give me your best guess for all those situations. There’s no such thing as too much information.”

Anduin responded by throwing a piece of dried fruit at him.

Later, he relented and sketched out a rough picture of a standard Alliance garrison. “They probably won’t have a lot built yet,” he explained, “but our workers are very fast. They’ll aim to get the barracks done quick, so the soldiers can have a place to rest.” He pointed to a few different spots in his sketch. “They’ll put it in one of these spots, depending on the size of the garrison and where it’s built and stuff. Something about ease of defense. They’ll surround the whole thing with a wall, and in hostile territory they’ll prioritize getting the defenses set up before anything else.”

“What about the people?” Wrathion asked. “You said not everyone is going to be a soldier, but who else would volunteer for a mission like this?”

“You’d be surprised.” Anduin smiled at him. “Lots of people want to join these groups, for adventure and to help the Alliance. At the very least they’ll have some workers to build the basic structures, some magic users for navigation and emergency defense, and probably a few civilians who are just in it to take advantage of the fresh start that settling a new land brings. They discourage anyone too young or too old from signing up, but as long as the garrison isn’t planned for an active war zone, they don’t usually refuse anyone. It’s helpful to have people like blacksmiths or bakers along.”

Wrathion couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to leave their quiet lives on Azeroth to colonize Draenor if the only guarantee they had of their safety was the skills of the soldiers around them. Every now and then he was reminded how reckless most of the races on Azeroth were. If he didn’t know how to fight and couldn’t command his draconic powers, he would never take such a risk. “Is this normal for the Horde as well,” he asked, “or is it only the Alliance that is full of lunatics?”

Anduin laughed, as if he thought Wrathion was joking. “Well, I don’t know, but I think it’s probably normal for them too.”

Azeroth was doomed, none of its inhabitants had any survival sense whatsoever. Wrathion covered his eyes with one hand and sighed. “How strong will their defenses be? Once they see you, they’ll sound an alarm. It might be better for me to approach them alone, would that be possible?”

“It might be, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m not staying behind.” Anduin folded his arms and stared Wrathion down. “You remember how well that worked last time?”

“Not really,” Wrathion said. Honesty was, after all, the best policy. “But this is completely different. You’d have Left and Right with you. If your soldiers see you with us, they’ll treat us like kidnappers, just like those agents did. I think my best bet is to approach them alone. An armed group of soldiers won’t attack a lone intruder with no weapons, especially not one that would be a valuable prisoner.”

“Those agents report back to my father,” Anduin pointed out. “Nobody will believe that you’re out here alone when you’ve already been seen with us, and any reason you give to explain why I’m not with you anymore will just cause more problems.”

Wrathion avoided his eyes. He was going to give in, he knew that, but there was no reason to make it easier for Anduin. “If you come along, they’ll send for your father right away. You’ve told me that you don’t want to go home yet, how will you avoid being taken back? I’ll have my hands tied, I can’t very well attack Alliance soldiers if I’m trying to be nonthreatening.”

Anduin shrugged. “You’re overthinking it. I’ve evaded rescue parties before, it’s not very hard.” Then he grinned and raised his eyebrows. “Come on Wrathion, you know you want to bring me along.”

Someday Wrathion would learn to say no to Anduin Wrynn, but that day had clearly not yet come.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man I feel bad. I just realized that ao3 has for some reason not been sending me comment notifications on this thing for god knows how long. I thought I was flinging the story into the void and did not even notice that people were still interacting with it. THIS IS A RETROACTIVE THANKS if you said something nice and I didn't see it. I'm not ignoring yall, I promise. 
> 
> Anyway. I had an outline for this chapter, which helped make it far less of a struggle than the last one despite the fact that I put just about the same amount of time into both of them. I've been wanting to get into this stuff for ages, this was supposed to be chapter 5. Finally I get to decide what I think happened here.

Admiral Taylor lay back against his bedroll, closed his eyes, and groaned. In another minute, he was sure, some other catastrophe would demand his attention. He’d been running around the garrison, if it could even be called that yet, almost nonstop since they’d broken ground, and had barely had the chance to rest. He was an experienced soldier, and he’d long ago mastered the art of quick cat naps, dropping off to sleep whenever the opportunity presented itself and waking at once when he was needed. That was all he could allow himself now, and all he would be able to get at least until they finished building their protective walls.

How long he dozed he couldn’t say, but it couldn’t have been longer than fifteen minutes before a high-pitched shriek from outside his tent roused him. Pushing his way outside, he found a collection of his men gathered around an injured logger, the third one that day. Already dreading what he might find, he hurried over. If it wasn’t flying monsters it was hydras, or arakkoa, or those enormous cat men that had hurled spears at his ship from the shore. He wondered if the group that had stayed behind at Southport were faring any better. There hadn’t been any time to send riders back down that way to check on them, there was simply too much to take care of. He had building projects to oversee, defenses to set up, and before any of that, a badly injured worker to care for.

The group of people gathered around, mostly soldiers and construction workers, parted to let him through. Kneeling down, Taylor inspected the man on the ground. It wasn’t immediately apparent which of his men had screamed at the sight of the wound, but whoever it was, he certainly didn’t blame them for it. There was a gash running nearly the entire length of the poor man’s chest, and a massive stinger embedded in his stomach. Insects, then. They’d taken note of the hive coming up from Southport, but Taylor genuinely hadn’t thought they would be a problem this far up.

“Taylor you old fool,” he muttered to himself. “Never let your guard down.” Straightening up, he began barking out orders for the injured man to be carted to the medics. He probably wouldn’t make it, but their team of healers would give it their best.

Standing up, he noticed a group of loggers standing nervously at the garrison border, watching their friend being carried away. Taylor waved them over. “Is it bad out there?” he asked. The attack might have been an isolated case, but he needed to know the full extent of the problem before he could decide how to handle it.

Each of the loggers had been working a different patch of land, and so they each had different ideas about how bad it was, but all agreed that the bugs showed some curiosity about their presence and that individuals had been coming up from the hive for a few days. The attack had been the handiwork of a small swarm, the first to be sent up, but the loggers feared that there would be more. They made it very clear that they would not be going back out to work without armed guards, or some other assurance of their safety. As if there were guards to spare. Everyone was stretched thin. Taylor rubbed at his temples, trying to think of who he could spare. There weren’t nearly enough soldiers to maintain a permanent guard on the logging area.

While he was thinking, Ephial came up behind him in that distressingly sudden way of his. “I can take care of it, sir,” he said, with a slow smile that didn’t quite match his voice. “I’ll only require a few of your men, and only for an hour or so. We can ride out at once and eradicate those beasts from our land.”

Taylor’s frown deepened. Ephial was not someone he would have personally chosen to accompany on a dangerous mission. He had a habit of disappearing just when he would be most useful, and spent hours alone taking down notes about things in the environment that Taylor could not even begin to understand. That he was taking a personal interest in protecting the loggers was odd. There must be something in it for him, some spot in that wood that he wanted for his magic rituals.

Almost as soon as he had the thought, Taylor felt a twinge of guilt. Ephial came highly recommended by the Kirin Tor, and mages were all a bit strange. Perhaps he was being uncharitable. Still, there was something about the man that set him on edge. “I’m glad you’re willing to help,”  
he said. “If you can find enough soldiers who don’t have other tasks and are willing to volunteer, you can go.”

Ephial smiled and saluted him. The gesture always felt sarcastic when it came from a mage, and Ephial was no different. Taylor was sure he was being insubordinate, but had no idea how to prove it, or if it was even worth it. Before he could reach a decision either way, Ephial was gone.

Despite the fact that Ephial was creepy, he was as good as his word. Taylor didn’t ask how he’d dealt with the insects, but the results were inarguable. The woods were safe to gather lumber in. With that problem out of the way, the garrison began to take form. The wall was finished first, then the barracks. In fact, they were on track to finish building ahead of schedule despite the early setbacks. There was a lot to be proud of, but Taylor had come to expect this kind of work ethic from the crews he worked with. As one of the senior admirals in the Alliance navy he was often assigned to the most dangerous missions, and was given accordingly skilled people to command. His workmen could finish the bare bones of a structure in under a day, and his soldiers were experienced with combat situations of all types.

This particular crew was a jumpy one, however. Many of them were young, skilled but limited in their experience to only the lands of Azeroth. None of them, he was willing to bet, had ever set foot in the Outland. If they had, they might be slower to jump into combat mode, more likely to think things through before reacting. So when he heard a disturbance on the far side of the garrison one day while he was finalizing plans for a town hall with his head of construction, he didn’t pay it any mind. One of the lookouts had spotted a rylak, perhaps. Maybe even an Iron Horde patrol, he knew they had a presence in the area. That might even be a cause for alarm, but nothing could justify such shouting. Their defenses were not complete yet, they didn’t need to be attracting unnecessary attention. He’d have to have a talk with the men later, remind them that even though they were in an unfamiliar place and understandably unsettled, they had a certain amount of dignity to uphold as soldiers of the Alliance.

One of his lookouts approached him as he finished signing off on the plans. She wasn’t running, all of his crew were trained never to run across a public space unless there was a genuine emergency. There were nonmilitary personnel in the garrison, and seeing soldiers dashing about would only serve to panic them. She was walking very quickly, however, and the look on her face told him to say goodbye to his dreams of having just one single peaceful afternoon.

“Sir, there’s a situation,” she said at once, as soon as she saw that she had his attention. As an afterthought, she gave him a hurried salute.

“So I gathered,” Taylor sighed. “Are we under attack again? The cannons should all be properly mounted into their places on the wall, you can go ahead and use them. It probably won’t bring the walls crashing down around our ears.”

She shook her head. “No, we’re not under attack. At least, I don’t think we are. We have…visitors.” She hesitated. “We’re attempting to verify it, but one of them appears to be the Prince.”

Already, Taylor could feel a migraine coming on. Of course Prince Anduin, off on his latest madcap adventure, would decide to make a stop here. Out of all the planned Alliance garrisons in Draenor, he had to pick this one. There was no reason to suspect deception, it just made sense. “All right,” he said, rubbing at his temples. “Take me to them, I’ll take care of it.”

The soldier nodded and led him through the garrison to the main gate, where a large crowd was forming despite the efforts of the defenders on duty to disperse those not involved. Taylor shouldered his way through and emerged behind a line of riflemen, just about every one assigned to his command, all of them pointing their guns at Wrathion, the black dragon whose face appeared on wanted posters all over Azeroth. He was smiling at the defenders and looked unconcerned for his physical safety. Prince Anduin was standing next to him, blocking one side of the rifle line and talking to the captain of the guard. He was gesturing wildly with one hand and looked, if anything, embarrassed. When he saw Taylor arrive, his face lit up.

“Admiral Taylor! I didn’t know you’d be here!” Smiling and waving, he looked more like a child receiving an unexpected visit for his birthday party than a lost prince turning up out of the wilderness.

“That makes two of us.” Taylor gestured for the riflemen to stand down, there was nothing good that could come from pointing a gun at the Crown Prince. He crossed his arms and glared. “You’d better have a very good explanation for what you’re doing here.”

* * *

 

 “He seemed nice,” Wrathion commented hours later, lying back on his bed and closing his eyes. Taylor had brought them into an interrogation room, lectured Anduin, threatened Wrathion with severe physical harm several times, and eventually decided to accept their story as truth. Wrathion was glad he’d made Anduin rehearse it before they arrived, he was usually a terrible liar. He’d stuck to the truth as much as he could while making up the story of how they got there, but embellished things here and there. The core of the story was the important part anyway, details didn’t really matter. They were lost, they’d been attacked, they needed shelter.

“Oh, he’s great.” Anduin flopped down on the other bed, causing the flimsy boards to creak alarmingly. “He’s the one my dad sent to find me when I got lost in Pandaria. You know they locked us in here, right?”

Wrathion snorted. “Of course. Your friend doesn’t trust me.” Not that he minded. It wasn’t healthy to have too many people relying on you, and really, was there a safer place to be than in a private room in a military garrison, with a door that was both barricaded and heavily guarded? He would want a similar arrangement even if the soldiers weren’t frightened of him.

All in all, it wasn’t even a bad room. The Admiral had initially wanted to lock him in a cellar and keep Anduin in the officer’s quarters, but since Anduin had refused to be separated from him, Taylor had compromised. The urge to intimidate a prisoner and the urge to treat royalty kindly had clashed, battled it out, and come to rest at their current arrangement: a room in the garrison’s newly constructed barracks. Wrathion thought it was a bit ambitious to have finished so many structures already, surely they couldn’t be expecting an inspection all the way out here, but he wasn’t complaining. Pillows and blankets were far preferable to what he’d been expecting.

“I think it’s actually me he doesn’t trust,” Anduin said, amused. “I ran away from his search party in Pandaria, I’m sure he expects me to head for the hills first chance I get.” He kicked off his boots and nestled down more comfortably on the mattress. “He’s wrong about that, I’m never moving again.”

Wrathion laughed. “Really now? I don’t think he’s wrong. We’ll have to get out of here before word of your arrival reaches your father. How long do you think that will take?” He’d tried to do all the calculations on that, but there were too many factors at play. Whether the Alliance had set up an organized mail system yet, how far into Draenor it extended, how long it would take a messenger to reach civilization from here, the location of Anduin’s father… thinking about it all was enough to make anyone’s head spin.

“Oh, who knows.” Anduin’s voice had taken on a faraway tone that made Wrathion smile to hear. “I’m tired, don’t make me think about that.”

“Good night then, dear prince,” Wrathion said. He got up and went to put the lights out, then shifted into his dragon form so that he wouldn’t make noise moving about the room. There was still a lot to be done. As quietly as he could, he reached out with his spells to Left and Right. The spell didn’t require messages to be spoken aloud, but it was more clear that way. To be considerate to Anduin, he spoke in a whisper and used Draconic, a language he knew Anduin did not speak and therefore would have an easier time ignoring.

Left responded at once. Everything was quiet, she told him. She’d been patrolling around outside the garrison wall since they’d been brought inside, and there was no sign of any trouble. In fact, she told him, it almost seemed too quiet. Other parts of the woods had animals, the strange giant insects and rylak nests every hundred yards or so. Where the garrison was built, everything was still. She was grateful for the chance to relax, but she found it slightly unsettling. Wrathion filed that information away for later. Something felt a little strange about the garrison to him too, now that she’d brought it up. He thanked Left for being patient, then shifted his focus to Right. That was harder, she was farther away.

She hadn’t wanted to leave. Only Wrathion’s repeated assurances that he would call her back if anything bad happened had convinced her to go. It was rare for her or Left to threaten disobedience of a direct order, so the whole debate had set the tone of the plan in an unpleasant way. Still, he needed someone to muster his agents on Draenor. He’d set a meeting point for them, not too far distant, and trusted those still loyal to him to make their way there as quickly as they could. Once they got there, it would be easier for them to organize if there was someone there who was obviously in charge. As one of his personal bodyguards, Right had authority. The rest of them would listen to her, and be ready to assist him with whatever he determined he needed from them.

At the moment, she was still traveling. Some of the others were close, she thought, but keeping their distance. Out in the wilds, it was always safest to assume that a nearby presence was a threat rather than an ally. She would meet up with them at the prearranged location, or if they turned out to be a danger she would kill them. She’d had some trouble with the winged arakkoa and sustained some slight injuries, but had managed to evade them and was for the moment safe. Knowing that she was okay was a relief, even though Wrathion hadn’t truly been concerned. There was always some uncertainty when he had to send one of his guards far away.

He bid her good night and cut off the spell, then flapped up to sit on the windowsill, looking out. The barracks only had one level, so it wasn’t much of a view, but he could at least solidify his mental picture of this part of the grounds before he had to do anything else. Most of the workers had retired for the evening, leaving only the soldiers on night watch to wander around the garrison. One of the dark figures moving past the window caught his eye, because of the air of purpose with which it walked. The soldiers were all walking a route, patrolling around the grounds. This person was different, they had a destination in mind. With guards posted outside the room and watching the walls of the barracks Wrathion could not follow, but he committed the figure to memory as well as he could. Tall, robed, not a soldier.

An early night and an early start had been the plan, but Wrathion wasn’t the least bit tired. He took that as a good sign that his injuries were healed fully, or close to it. Getting exhausted from the least bit of effort was annoying, and made it impossible to accomplish anything worthwhile. His gut feeling was that the robed figure was up to something, but he had no idea whether it was anything worth paying attention to or not. Certainly, every non-soldier in the garrison would have their own reasons for being here. It made sense that people might have things to do outside the norms of military behavior. Still, it had taken hold of his attention for a moment, and he was curious.

If only he could leave, go and investigate and satisfy his interest without setting off an alarm. Taylor had given them strict directions to stay put until morning. If he tried to sneak out there would be trouble, and that would be inconvenient. The entire garrison was watching him. He ran that thought through his head, turned it over a few times, and then grinned wickedly. The more people that Taylor had set to guarding him, the more likely it was that he’d be able to find a weak point.

Time to do some prodding. _Start slow_ , he reminded himself. _Look for a way in_. As quietly as he could, he knocked on the locked door of the room. “Excuse me, guard? Could I ask a favor?”

* * *

 

 Anduin woke to a thrown pillow catching him on the back of the head. He groaned, grabbed it, and blindly threw it back without lifting his head. That night had been his first sleep in a real bed in who even knew how long, and he was reluctant to let it end. He heard Wrathion laugh, and then winced as a dragon whelp landed on his back, sharp claws digging in even through the fabric.

“Time to get up,” Wrathion said. “Your friend Taylor’s agreed to talk to us, and I want you asking the questions. He won’t want to tell me anything.”

“Has he been here?” Anduin sat up, slightly alarmed at the idea that he could have been so deeply asleep that he missed a visitor. He’d thought that his time on Draenor had made him more alert, but he had been very tired so it was just barely possible.

Wrathion shifted back to human form, smiling smugly and shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. I simply asked our guard to pass along a message for me. He’s a very reasonable man, all I had to do was ask nicely.” He indicated a jug of water and a plate of bread that was sitting on the windowsill. “He brought that, too, when I told him we’d been living off roots and wild game. Seemed horrified that I would make the Prince of Stormwind live like that, made me promise not to eat it all before you woke up.”

Of course Wrathion would be talking to the guards, Anduin didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it coming. Wrathion was always on the lookout for people he could sway to his cause, and he was used to dealing with members of the Alliance. Anduin grabbed a piece of bread for himself, and shook the sleep away. “What do you want me to ask him about? You’ll be right there, he probably won’t tell me much more than he’ll tell you.”

“No, but he likes you.” Wrathion gave him a winning smile. “He’ll be more willing to cooperate if he thinks you’re in charge. I just want to know what their goal here is, what they intend to do with this garrison, and if there’s anything we can help with. Once we earn a bit of trust, then we can move on to asking for information about the war.”

Anduin shook his head. “He doesn’t think I’m in charge, he thinks my father is in charge. He might humor me, but only to try and keep me here long enough for my father to get word that I’m here and come to take my home.” Wrathion had a habit of overestimating the amount of sway that he would have with officers in the Alliance military. Most of the veteran soldiers remembered him as a very young child, and saw him as a burden to protect at best, and a nuisance at worst.

“Oh, well, it’s worth a try anyway,” Wrathion said. “This is an irregular situation, he might not respond in predictable ways. At the very least, this is a chance to see the garrison in more detail, maybe persuade him to let us have a little more freedom to wander. As much as I prefer this room to a jail cell, it is effectively the same idea.”

That, at least, was something Anduin could agree with. Their room in the barracks was more comfortable than anywhere they’d been since their brief stop in Aruuna, but Anduin would never say no to a chance to get outside and stretch his legs. He hated being confined. Breakfast was finished quickly, and they arrived early for their meeting with Taylor.

Once the garrison had a proper town hall constructed, Taylor would be operating out of there during the day, issuing orders to his workers and coordinating the schedules of the soldiers. Until then, his base of operations was a little less complex, consisting of a lot of maps and papers spread out on a table inside a heavily guarded tent. He was talking to someone when they arrived, a tall man with the robes of a mage. Anduin had been to Dalaran several times to visit Jaina, but couldn’t remember ever being introduced to this man, or seeing him around. The Kirin Tor was traditionally a small organization, so that was a little surprising. He’d thought he had met, at least in passing, almost all the mages who would be considered advanced enough to accompany a war party on a dangerous mission like this one.

Wrathion took an immediate interest in the man, although he tried to hide it. The guards, who were walking a few feet away, probably didn’t notice his sudden attentiveness and tension. Anduin, who was standing right next to him, could not have missed it. He gave Wrathion a curious look. Wrathion’s eyes widened and he shook his head emphatically. Taking the hint, Anduin let it go and put on a normal face for Admiral Taylor. “Good morning Admiral,” he said. “Sorry we’re early, I hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

“You’re not,” Taylor said. “Ephial was just finishing his report.”

The mage, Ephial, bowed slightly to Anduin. He couldn’t be sure, but something about it seemed insincere. Ephial did not outwardly acknowledge Wrathion, but eyed him as he passed, and walked away without a word. Wrathion frowned after him, the very tips of his longest fangs showing as his upper lip rose in an almost imperceptible snarl.

“So, what did you want to meet with me about?” Taylor asked. “If it’s going to take a long time, I’ll have to tell you to try again later. I have a lot to deal with here.”

Anduin always appreciated Taylor’s directness. He wasn’t rude, he just had no time for pleasantries. Unfortunately, that meant that Wrathion’s idea wasn’t going to work here. Taylor wasn’t in any mood for an extended interrogation about his purpose in the Spires of Arak. Anduin faltered for a moment, wondering what he could say to carry the conversation in a productive direction.

“We were wondering if we could help you with anything,” he said. “Wrathion supports the war effort fully, and of course I want to see the Alliance succeed.” He smiled at Taylor. It fell flat. Taylor was glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

“No,” he said. “You can’t. Not unless you have a stone quarry in your pocket. I don’t need more workers, and I don’t need the hassle of assigning people to babysit you so you don’t run off the second there are no eyes on you. Was there anything else?”

There was, but Anduin doubted Taylor had the patience for it. Sometimes he thought the command structure in the military needed an overhaul, the top ranked soldiers often had lowered productivity just because the demands on a leader were so high. “I guess not,” he said. “Come on Wrathion, let’s go.”

Wrathion didn’t look as upset about the early end to the questioning as Anduin had thought he would be. He was distracted, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. He’d tracked the direction the mage Ephial had gone in, and had spent the entire time Anduin was speaking with Taylor looking over his shoulder. Anduin braced himself, knowing that as soon as they got back to their room Wrathion would start in on this new line of interest.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draenor Days: A continuing documentary of how outlines do not and will never help. 
> 
> Admiral Taylor's garrison is tricky for me to write on for a lot of reasons, but mostly because there's a very clear timeline to it. I struggle with estimating how long things should take, so a lot of the timeline stuff in this fic is left intentionally vague. I can't do that right now, and so I suffer.

“You’re a terrible negotiator,” Wrathion said, as soon as they were safely back in the relative privacy of their room. “At the very least, you could have asked if we could move freely around the garrison. I have things to do, and I don’t want any more soldiers pointing guns at me, that would be embarrassing for everyone.” He flung himself down into a chair and stared out the window.

Anduin shook his head, unaffected by Wrathion’s usual theatrics. “That’s not how it works,” he said. Wrathion might know how to manage spies and hired adventurers, but he had very little experience dealing with authority. “You saw the kind of mood Taylor was in. It didn’t matter what I asked him, he was going to say no. Me being here is a nightmare for him, you know that. He knows that if anything happens to me while I’m here, he’ll have to take responsibility for it.”

“I’m not taking orders from him,” Wrathion growled. “And neither should you. You’re the Prince, you should be giving _him_ orders.” He reached up and tapped at the window with one claw, tracing over it in a light motion, following the movements of the soldiers walking around outside. “You could do a better job of running this place anyway.”

“That seems unlikely to me, but thanks for the compliment.” Anduin smiled and pulled the room’s other chair over to the window so he could sit next to Wrathion. “Technically, you’re right. I do outrank Taylor. That doesn’t mean I can make him do anything I want, though. He’s still under my father’s command.” He rested his arms on the windowsill, gently nudging Wrathion in the process. “Lucky for you, I know how to deal with him. He’ll say no to whatever you ask him, so just don’t ask. If you want to look around the garrison, go do it. Show him that you’re not going to cause trouble by not causing any trouble.”

Wrathion gave him a sidelong look. “It's like you _want_  to see me beat up those soldiers. No matter what I do, they’re going to think I’m causing trouble.”

And knowing Wrathion, he probably would be. Trouble followed wherever he went, and he had a tendency of stirring things up when he couldn’t find anything wrong to start with. “You’ll be safe if you’re with me,” Anduin said. “Let me guess, you want to spy on the mage?” He made his disapproval of the idea clear in his tone. Ephial was a little creepy, but he knew from experience that magic users could be like that. Dalaran was a city of study and reflection, it was easy for the residents to forget how to act around people and become absorbed in their interests to the exclusion of all other things. A mage acting strange was no reason for alarm.

“I don’t like him,” Wrathion said at once, a bit too loudly. “I’m sure he’s up to something.” He sat up straight, eyes flashing, ignoring Anduin’s concerned glance at the door. The guards Taylor had posted to watch over them were both very nice men and had so far been lenient with them, but he didn’t think it would be a good idea to push their luck by letting someone overhear Wrathion talking about sinister plans.

“I could see that,” he said in a quieter voice, hoping Wrathion would follow his lead. “He didn’t give a very good impression, but that’s sort of normal for mages. There’s no reason to think he’s a bad person.”

Wrathion rolled his eyes at Anduin’s signals to be quiet, but lowered his voice all the same. “I’ve met mages before, worked with them even. I know a _mage_ when I see one. That man is not a mage.” Wrathion’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “He smells more like a warlock.”

Something in his voice told Anduin that when Wrathion referred to Ephial’s scent, he was not talking about a physical sense. Still, the accusation was absurd. Ephial carried a staff prominently inscribed with the mark of the Kirin Tor, which was supposed to be impossible to fake, and he’d come recommended by the order. A mage’s staff wouldn’t be of any use to a warlock, their branches of magic were different and required different tools. Anduin was also pretty sure that Taylor would be able to spot an impostor in his crew, however little he cared for magic himself.

On the other hand, the more he thought about it, the more Wrathion’s worries began to make sense. It would be difficult, almost impossible, for a true warlock to infiltrate the Kirin Tor, but once someone had been admitted as a mage, it was largely on them to limit their magical dabbling. There was very little to keep a practitioner of the arcane arts away from more dangerous fields of magic, and it was not uncommon for mages to be drawn away by the power that embracing the darker arts promised them. There was nothing that necessarily made individual warlocks dangerous, there were always a few who continued to faithfully serve their people, managing to keep the powers they worked with under control. However, they were kept under far closer scrutiny than other kinds of magic user.

“You think he’s just pretending to be a mage?” Anduin asked. “So Taylor won’t ask too many questions about his research?” With the destruction of the Dark Portal, fel magic was a persistent threat. It was hard to imagine that it wouldn’t draw in interested parties.

Wrathion shrugged. “I said he smelled more like a warlock. I didn’t say he smelled exactly like one. I’m not sure what he’s doing, but I don’t like it.” He tapped on the glass of the window again. “I’ve been watching, but I haven’t seen him come back from wherever it was he ran off to. Not that I can be sure,” he said bitterly, “as I can’t see more than a few tents from here.”

Their room really was in a bad spot. Anduin patted his arm sympathetically. Wrathion always liked to have high ground, so he could see what was going on around him. “If he’s up to anything suspicious, he won’t do it in the garrison. Taylor’s too smart, he’d notice right away.” That didn’t narrow things down any, but it was discouraging. They might be able to walk around the garrison without raising any alarms, but there was no way either of them would be able to so much as set a toe outside the perimeter wall.

“Taylor doesn’t know the first thing about magic,” Wrathion scoffed. “I bet he wouldn’t even know an enchantment from a curse.” He stood up and stretched. “I’m going to look around the garrison anyway. I think it’s likely that our mage friend will have left traces of his work around, believing that nobody would recognize them.” When he reached the door he stopped and turned to look pointedly at Anduin, who stared back at him for an embarrassingly long time before realizing that he was expected to come along.

“You could ask,” he suggested, getting up to follow Wrathion.

“Why should I do that,” Wrathion answered with a smug smile, “when you already know what I want?”

* * *

 

 The efforts Wrathion had put into being polite with their guards paid off. When he opened the door and said he wanted to go for a walk, he had been expecting to get shut down immediately. Instead, the guards had been wary, but allowed it on the condition that he stayed with Anduin and did not stray out of sight of the wall guards. Since Wrathion had no intention of leaving the garrison or letting Anduin out of his sight, he did not think that those would be difficult conditions to meet.

“It’s funny,” he commented as they walked out onto the garrison grounds, “how everyone seems to think that you’ll be able to keep me in line.”

Anduin took a joking swing at his head, which he ducked easily. “Watch out,” he said. “I can smite you with holy fire if you misbehave.”

Wrathion grinned at him, all teeth. “I’d love to see you try it.”

Verbal sparring with Anduin was easy, the different pathways and snares of their usual arguments well-practiced and calming to navigate. It was also a horrible distraction. It was hard for Wrathion to pay attention to anything else when he was talking to Anduin, and they’d already circled the grounds once before he remembered that he was supposed to be looking for anything suspicious.

He cleared his throat and refocused. By this point, most of the soldiers around the grounds had stopped paying attention to them entirely, seeing only two people out for a walk. That would make it easier to do some digging, if he decided that would be necessary. “I wonder where our sorcerer friend is staying,” he wondered out loud. Most of the soldiers were relocating to the barracks, which still needed a few finishing touches to the second floor but was overall structurally sound. As Wrathion could not imagine any serious magic user wanting to live in close quarters with so many of the rank and file of the army, he had to assume that Ephial was being housed elsewhere on the grounds, same as Admiral Taylor.

Anduin turned to look at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in surprise, and he realized he’d made an error. “You don’t know?” Anduin asked. “I assumed you’d smelled him out ages ago, you’re telling me we’ve been out here all this time and you haven’t even started yet?”

“It’s not that easy to pick out one person among so many,” Wrathion snapped, turning away to hide his embarrassment. He’d slipped up, he’d let himself lose focus, and now Anduin knew it. “I was a little distracted, and the soldiers are practically stacked on top of each other here. I can smell him everywhere, so he could be anywhere.”

“Hey, I’m not mad.” Anduin sounded amused, Wrathion found himself unable to look at him. “It’s just that it’s getting a little cold out, so as nice as this is, it might be better to try and finish your investigating quick.”

He was right. This close to the shore, there was little to block the cold winds coming off the ocean. The sun had been out for most of the morning, mitigating the cold somewhat, but now some fog was moving in as well and covering up that source of warmth. Wrathion had been so absorbed in their conversation that he hadn’t been paying any mind to the weather, but now that Anduin mentioned it, it was impossible to ignore. Although dragons in general had a high tolerance for various weather conditions, he was not so at home in the cold as the members of the Blue Dragonflight. As a black dragon, he would always be more comfortable in the warmth.

Back in Pandaria, days like this were common on the Veiled Stair. Mist would surround the mountain in a freezing layer, and he would stay inside by the fire to deal with his adventurers and agents. Remembering the dim light of the tavern, the sounds of the fire burning in Tong’s wood stove, drinking tea and playing games with Anduin, made him pause as a spike of some unidentifiable emotion shot through him. What reason did he have to think of that now? The Tavern in the Mists had been an excellent base of operations, but he had no more need of it. Nothing good ever came from staying too long in one place.

He could analyze it later. Right now he needed to focus. Closing his eyes, he breathed in slowly, inhaling all the scents of the garrison and letting them pass over his tongue as well as through his nose. Mostly, he smelled battle. Strong metals for armor, the fire of a forge already burning despite the blacksmith’s workshop not being fully complete yet, food and drink and the smell of soldiers, strong enough as to be unpleasant. Underneath all that, he had to pick out one particular scent. One human among the multitudes who smelled more of magic powders and elixirs than of armor and weapons.

When he said earlier that Ephial had been everywhere, it hadn’t been an exaggeration. He could detect traces of the man’s presence in nearly every corner of the garrison, and it was impossible to tell which scents were old and which were fresh with the interference of all the others. He would have to rely on his other senses to glean any real meaning from the input. A blue or green dragon could sense magic with such accuracy and detail that it was as if they could see the power in the air. Several of his sources claimed that blue dragons actually _could_ see magic. If he had that ability, this would be a trivial task. Instead, he had to rely on his own magical sensing ability, which was far better than that of most humans, but still left a lot to be desired.

Every type of magic left traces, although if the source of it was a highly skilled magic user attempting to hide their tracks, they could minimize those traces until they were undetectable to all but the most skilled searchers. Differentiating between the types of magic was easy. Anduin, who used the Light to power his spells, left behind traces that felt like sticking his hand into a sunbeam. In contrast, the magic he was tracking around the garrison felt like hundreds of tiny needles, poking at his skin just barely hard enough to be felt. It was aggravating to the extreme, and like Ephial’s scent, it seemed to be everywhere. He was either performing spells everywhere he went or he was not in control of his own power, and Wrathion wasn’t sure which scenario he preferred. One would mean he was tracking a volatile and unpredictable threat, the other would point to a dedicated opponent, one who was setting himself up to do something major.

He was crouching with Anduin by the outdoor eating area, turning a discarded cup over in his hands and trying to decide if it had been deliberately enchanted or simply allowed to soak up magic energy, when Admiral Taylor found them. He came striding up to them, a scowl on his face, holding his coat close against himself as a shield from the wind that was picking up with every moment.

“ _There_ you are,” he said, pointing accusingly at Anduin as he approached. “The men I assigned to watch you told me you’d _left_. What they were thinking, I’ll never know.”

Anduin stood up quickly and winced, leaning on the table to support himself. Wrathion knew that cold weather sometimes made his leg sore, maybe it had been unfair to ask him to come along when he didn’t even know what they were looking for. “Don’t be mad at them,” he implored Taylor. “We were just out for a walk, we’ve been in sight of the barracks the whole time. They can still keep an eye on us from there.”

Normally a terrible liar, Anduin had mastered the art of telling only part of the truth. They had not gone far from the barracks, and it was probably true that they had been under scrutiny the entire time. Wrathion watched as Taylor considered, setting the cup aside and staring back innocently when Taylor looked at him. Suspicion was written across Taylor’s face, but there was no way that anything Wrathion was doing could be held against him.

“I’ll go easy on them,” Taylor conceded eventually. “But never mind them. I was looking all over for you.” He held up an open envelope, waving it in front of Anduin’s face for emphasis. “After dinner tonight, a rider is taking this down to the port where it will be sent to your father. It’s a report detailing the progress we’ve made here at the garrison, and includes an urgent message about your presence here. If at any point before I seal the envelope you decide that you want to add anything to it, bring that addition to me.” He tucked the envelope back into the pocket of his coat, fixing Anduin with an intense stare. “I strongly suggest it. Your father has been out of his mind worrying over you. Getting word from you would do wonders for him.”

Anduin seemed to shrink, looking down at his feet and clenching his hands in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness. “I… thank you, Admiral. I’ll consider it.”

Taylor nodded and turned to leave. “Get back to your room,” he said over his shoulder. “I won’t be far. It’s better to have a roof over your head in this kind of weather.”

* * *

 

Anduin did go back, after that. Part of him wanted very much to stay out in the cold with Wrathion, maybe leave the garrison entirely and head back out into the wilds, but he knew that would only be a temporary solution. He couldn’t avoid thinking about his father forever. Taylor thought it would help if he sent a letter, and maybe it would, but could he do that? What would he even say? Wrathion had taken note of him dragging his feet, the conflict preventing him from being present in the moment, and made him go inside.

“Go and sort yourself out,” he’d said. “You won’t be any help like this. If you want to write to your father, you should.” With a slight push, he sent Anduin back toward the barracks and continued poking around the grounds on his own.

It wasn’t that simple, but Anduin had no idea how to even begin explaining the nuances of the situation to someone who had never held any love for his family. He did want to speak to his father, to tell him where he’d been and what he’d seen, and why he wasn’t ready to come home yet. But that was a conversation that was best suited for a face to face meeting. Leaving it to a note, hastily written and stuffed into an outbound envelope at the last second, felt wrong. At the same time, if he avoided serious subjects, what was left to say? Either option seemed, at the least, disrespectful. Yet there was no doubt that sending nothing would be even worse.

He tore out a few pages from his journal to start on, lay down on his bed with a pen in his hand and the pages set in front of him, and mulled over the best way to approach this task. There was no good way, but perhaps there would be one that was less disastrous than the others. _Dear dad, I hope you’re well and_ \- he scratched it out. Too casual, might be read as sarcastic.

The next attempt was no better, and neither was the one after that. When he’d filled half the page with hopeless scribbles, he crumpled it up and tossed it aside, collapsing down onto the mattress and burying his face in the blanket. Everything he could think of to say sounded childish and insincere even in his head, and nothing he tried encompassed what he actually wanted to say. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, he only knew that none of the things he’d tried were it. Briefly, the idea of giving up and just passing out here crossed his mind. It would be so much easier just to put his journal away, throw out his failed attempts, and pretend he’d never tried in the first place.

Wrathion found him like that when he came in, rubbing his hands together to warm them back up. “You’re not done yet?”

He sounded genuinely curious, not patronizing in the slightest, but Anduin felt himself getting annoyed anyway. “It’s not that easy,” he snapped. “I can’t tell him anything I’ve been doing, because he’ll worry, and I can’t say I’ll come home soon, because I don’t think I will.” He threw his pen down in a slight fit of drama. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Don’t ask me,” Wrathion said, shrugging. “If I were you, I wouldn’t bother at all.”

At least he was being honest. Anduin sighed and picked up the pen again. “I have to send something, it’ll be a huge insult if I don’t. Believe it or not, I do want to be on speaking terms with my father again sometime this decade.”

Wrathion hummed and came over to look at the woefully blank paper. He examined it carefully even though nothing was written on it yet, then pushed his way up onto the mattress behind Anduin, leaning up against the headboard and taking care not to jostle Anduin’s legs around. “Show it to me when you have something,” he suggested. “I’ll tell you what to change and you can ignore me, I’m sure it will help.”

Anduin made a half-hearted attempt to kick him off, but leaned back over the page and started writing again. Somehow, it was easier to put words down on the page with Wrathion there. Something about being observed, he didn’t want to do any more backtracking if someone could see him.

_Father,_

_Admiral Taylor tells me this will eventually reach you, but I don’t know how long that will take. I was surprised to see him here, it feels like I’ve been out here for years._

_Wrathion has been dragging us all around the continent, chasing demons. I don’t know that any of his worries are based in reality, but I feel better having him here. He’s a good fighter, and most wild animals seem to avoid him on instinct. I’m not entirely sure what he expects to be able to do, he was more surprised than any of us when Garrosh decided to turn his Horde back against Azeroth. I want to ask Taylor how the war is going, but he’s been too busy to talk to me. I don’t think he’s as happy to see me as I was to see him._

_I’ve been curious about the situation with the Arakkoa. We met one of the flightless ones on our way here, she was badly hurt and traveled with us for a while. The winged ones, from what I’ve heard, are attacking anything that doesn’t fly. Don’t worry though, we haven’t seen any._

_There’s a lot I think we need to talk about, but I don’t want to trust it to a letter that may not even reach you. For now, know that I am alive and well._

_I hope that your campaign is successful._

_Your son,_   
_Anduin_

When he finished, he read it over critically. It was much too short. If he’d had proper warning, he could have come up with something better. Maybe wrote down a few stories from their travels, although perhaps not. Most of the noteworthy things that had happened to them had been very dangerous, and the goal here was to calm his father, not send him flying into a frenzy. Wrathion was quiet behind him, probably reading over his shoulder. Anduin found that he didn’t mind it much. Wrathion lacked the context to fully understand what he was struggling with, the letter would mean nothing more to him than the words on the page.

Folding it carefully, he stood up. “I should give this to Taylor right away.” If he didn’t, he would lose his nerve. Wrathion had been running around the garrison while he was struggling, surely he must have the layout memorized by now. “Do you know where I’ll find him?”

“Just in the other room,” Wrathion said. He waved in a vague direction with one hand, stretching himself out to fill the space Anduin had vacated. “Don’t take too long.”

No chance of that. Anduin was already nervous and embarrassed about the letter, for so many reasons he could hardly count them. Taylor would read it, he had a responsibility to ensure that he knew exactly what was reaching the King from his garrison, and Anduin did not want to stick around for that. Better to hand it off and wash his hands of it. After all, he wouldn’t be staying long enough to receive a reply.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOCAL ADVENTURE AUTHOR STRUGGLES TO WRITE MUSHY FEELINGS: NEWS AT 11. 
> 
> I've been looking for an opening to get things moving on the "shipping" part of "very long adventure-oriented shipping fic" in my original vision for approximately 18 chapters now. I found one, and I went for it. I know it feels awkward. I have nothing to draw from here and I'm not very good at writing this stuff yet. I have to assume I'll get better with practice, so please bear with me for a bit.

Wrathion was gone again when Anduin returned to their room. He double checked, just in case Wrathion was napping in whelp form somewhere hidden, but his search turned up nothing. Taylor had either forgotten to replace their guards or decided it wasn’t worth the trouble to keep them contained, so he assumed Wrathion had just gotten restless and gone back out to stick his nose into things. He could have waited, even walking around in the biting wind was preferable to lying around with nothing to do and nobody to talk to. There was a small bookshelf on one side of the room, but it was sparse and the few volumes it did contain were nothing more than old military journals and explorer’s handbooks.

With nothing else to do, Anduin set about revising his map of the Spires. The one scribbled in the back of his journal was wildly inaccurate, and so smudged that it was barely legible. At the very least, it would be helpful to have a record of where they had been, so he would know that they weren’t just wandering in circles. The revised version wasn’t much better, and he knew that there were miles and miles ground to the North that they hadn’t even approached, but at least it passed the time. When he finished putting the final touches on his new map and Wrathion was still nowhere to be found, he allowed himself to start worrying a little.

Surely, he told himself, the guards would say something if they didn’t know where Wrathion had gone. Surely he must have told them where he intended to be, and for how long. Just to make sure, Anduin opened the door and stuck his head out. “Can you tell me where Wrathion went?” he asked. “He didn’t leave a note or anything.”

The younger guard, who Anduin thought was called Jeremy, started at his sudden appearance. He’d been staring off into space, almost sleeping. Guard duty was usually one of the least interesting jobs an enlisted soldier could be put on. “He said he was going to _go introduce himself to the residents_ , whatever that means.” He gestured at the nearest window. “You can look for him if you like, he was over by the forge last time we checked.”

Anduin momentarily felt the urge to laugh. Wrathion’s status as a high-priority prisoner had been forgotten quickly, it seemed, in the hustle and bustle of an outpost under construction. These guards probably resented being stationed inside, if he were them he would want to spend his days doing as much work as he could on construction or defense. He went over to the window and peered out, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sunlight. No sign of Wrathion. That wasn’t too surprising, he prided himself on his stealth even when he was in human form, and if he was a dragon then he would be even harder to spot unless he was standing on something.

The guards were watching him search with renewed interest, he could see them out of the corner of his eye. All things considered, he supposed that it was surprising his presence at the garrison wasn’t drawing more attention. According to everyone he’d spoken to, his disappearance from the castle had caused an uproar in Stormwind, and he was sure that those reports were understated. Knowing his father, he would bet a thousand gold coins that there wasn’t a single person in all of Azeroth who wasn’t at least peripherally aware of the situation. Taylor must have instructed his men not to make a fuss.

He took his time looking around for Wrathion, knowing that the guards had something to say and not wanting to ask them what it was. No sign of him by the stable, nor was he by the gate. The older guard, a gruff man who had declined to give his name and insisted on wearing his helmet even inside, cleared his throat. Anduin turned around with a pleasant smile, grateful for the interruption. The silence had quickly become uncomfortable.

“So,” the guard said, feigning casual interest but obviously very curious. “The dragon. What’s he like?”

Anduin considered the question. He’d been expecting to be asked why he’d left, or what he was doing here. Most people seemed to feel that it wasn’t worth the risk to be too curious about Wrathion. “What do you mean? You’ve talked to him,” Anduin answered. “You know what he’s like.”

“He’s talked to us, more like.” The guard shrugged his shoulders. “Told us where he’s going, asked for favors. Doesn’t really tell us anything.”

Anduin had to agree with that. Wrathion tended to put on airs when he spoke, and especially around people he didn’t know very well. He didn’t exactly hide his personality, it was too loud for him to conceal it, but he was selective about which parts of it he allowed out into general company. “If you’re worried,” he said eventually, “I don’t think you have to be. He’s not here to cause any problems.” He decided not to mention that problems usually sparked at Wrathion’s presence whether he wanted them to or not.

The guard let out a short laugh. “We’re got bigger things to worry about.” He turned to the side and pointed at a deep scrape on the side of his armor. “Iron Horde attack, right after we set up camp here. Unless your friend is coming at me wielding a sword that size, I don’t care what he does. That’s not what we were asking. What’s he _like?_ ”

“I’m not sure I’m following you.” Anduin stepped away from the window, frowning. Things were always a little more relaxed at outposts, but this guard’s tone was teetering on the edge of rudeness. “If there’s anything specific you’d like to know about him, I’m sure he’d be glad to talk to you if you ask him.” Not exactly a safe assumption, but he didn’t feel comfortable explaining the ins and outs of Wrathion’s organization and goals to two soldiers he barely knew.

Jeremy cut in hastily, waving his hand in front of the other guard to stop him speaking. “Oh, we’re not trying to be intrusive, it’s just,” he gave Anduin a strange look, “he seems completely normal. We were expecting him to be a little more, you know…” He gestured and fell silent.

Anduin shook his head, grinning. The idea of Wrathion seeming normal to anybody was hilarious to him, but he was a prince and it was bad manners for a prince to laugh at his subjects. “Sorry, I don’t know. Did you think you were getting Deathwing himself in your garrison?”

“No, of course not!” Jeremy looked horrified at the thought. “It’s just that we heard rumors that the prince had run away with someone, so we thought he must be really spectacular.”

“Well, I think he’s-” Anduin suddenly realized what Jeremy was getting at and nearly choked in his rush to interrupt himself. “No, it’s not really like that.” He thought about trying to explain himself, that he’d had lots of reasons for leaving and that his decision wasn’t made entirely based on who was offering him an exit, but he couldn’t find the words. And besides, it really wasn’t any of these guards’ business why he’d left Stormwind, or how he’d come to be here. So instead he just cleared his throat, drew himself up as best he could and ignored his face burning as he walked past them back into his room. “Let me know if you see him,” he managed. “I think he wanted to talk to me about something earlier.”

He shut the door without waiting for an answer and covered his face with one hand, trying to forget the conversation, but it was etched into his mind and he couldn’t just let it go. People thought he’d run away with Wrathion. Technically, they were right, but he hadn’t run away with Wrathion, he’d just… He couldn’t even remember what he’d been thinking at the time, other than that Wrathion was about to do something very dangerous and he had to help him.

They’d heard rumors. If members of the army had heard rumors, it was a sure bet that they’d reached the King as well. It wasn’t true, so why should he let that idea bother him? It didn’t matter what his father thought, except that it did matter because it would affect how angry he would be the next time he saw Anduin. Varian had never liked the idea of Wrathion, he’d made it clear many times that he didn’t want Anduin speaking to him at all. He’d let it slide, because Anduin was old enough to choose his own friends, but now it might be different. His right to do as he pleased in his own time ended when it began to impact the way people viewed the kingdom, Varian had made that very clear. In exchange for relative freedom, there were solid lines that he couldn’t cross.

Twice during his friendship with Wrathion, Anduin had taken a step back from himself and very carefully picked over his emotions, looking at them objectively for any signs that what he was feeling was out of line. The first time was shortly after he’d traveled to the Veiled Stair and met Wrathion. He’d been worried by how much he felt drawn in by Wrathion’s presence, and wanted to make sure that he wasn’t making himself vulnerable to manipulation. The second time had been much later, just before he’d left to explore the Timeless Isle. He had been talking to Jaina about Wrathion and she’d asked him, with gentle concern in her voice, how much time they were spending together. Maybe these new rumors were a sign that he should do some further introspection, just to make sure.

* * *

 

 Wrathion returned to the barracks about an hour before sundown, arms full with food he’d commandeered from the corner of the building currently serving as a mess hall, and found Anduin deep in a truly impressive sulk. He’d kicked his shoes off to different corners of the room, drawn the curtains, and was sprawled across his bed staring miserably at the far wall. His only response to seeing Wrathion return was to look at him, nod once, and let his head drop back down onto the pillow.

The sight of him threw Wrathion off a little bit. When he’d left to deliver his note to Taylor he had been in a bit of a mood, certainly, but nothing like this. Surely the process of handing off a letter couldn’t have gone badly enough to warrant such a shift? Maybe Anduin was having second thoughts about reaching out to his father at all. He’d certainly seemed conflicted, but Wrathion had been under the impression that deep down he did want to speak to King Varian, and his hesitation was more out of a wish to avoid a continuation of their arguing than out of a real distaste for the idea.

Fathers. Things like this made Wrathion very glad that he’d never bothered trying to speak with his own. Granted, Varian Wrynn was nowhere near as bad as Deathwing. Still, just on principle, he had the impression that worrying over the opinions of blood relations was a bad idea. Trying to communicate effectively with his father only ever made Anduin upset. He’d explained to Wrathion a few times that he did love his father and they had good times together when they weren’t fighting. Wrathion had yet to see compelling evidence of this. They’d been getting along well enough at the trial, he had been watching closely enough to see that, yet there had been an undercurrent of tension that was obvious even from across the room.

As much as either of them tried to deny it, it seemed to him that Anduin and his father were afraid of each other. Not the loud, explosive kind of fear, but the subtle, lingering kind. The kind that could lie dormant and forgotten for months or years before some innocuous event made it raise its head and strike again. He’d told Anduin, although not in so many words, that attempting to navigate it would be a bad idea. A reminder of that, however, would not be appreciated. Rather than prod at Anduin’s bad mood, he held up the plates of food as a peace offering of sorts.

“It was made clear that I wasn’t welcome to eat over there,” he said lightly. “I brought you something as well, but I think they’d let you sit with them if you want to go outside.” A change of scenery often settled his bad moods, and he knew the same was true for Anduin.

Anduin shook his head without sitting up. “Where have you been? I didn’t hear about any disasters.” It sounded like he was trying to make a joke, but the dismal tone in his voice caused it to fall flat. He cringed. “Never mind. Thanks for bringing the food.”

When Anduin didn’t make any move to take anything from him, Wrathion carefully set one of the plates down near him on the end of the bed. The other two were for him. He was a growing dragon, after all. “While you were gone,” he explained, “I saw Ephial going quite rapidly through the garrison. I thought I’d follow, and see where he went.” He paused for effect, and frowned when Anduin didn’t react. “Well, to make a long story short, I found out that he’s got a whole tent to use as a workshop, and that he was out in the woods all day. I’m having Left take a look.” Having an unenthusiastic audience really took the wind out of his sails, he wasn’t sure Anduin was even listening. “Something’s bothering you,” he said. “What is it?”

At first he thought Anduin wasn’t going to answer him at all. He cleared his throat, sounding a bit strangled, and looked away. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Just keep talking, please. How is Left doing?”

As if anyone in the history of the world had ever been satisfied with being told not to worry about it. In fact, if their positions were flipped, Wrathion was sure Anduin would be giving him some sort of uplifting speech about trusting one’s friends and making sure not to get overwhelmed. The fair thing to do would be to turn all that rhetoric back on him, but he wasn’t Anduin. He couldn’t summon words like that out of thin air. If Anduin didn’t want to talk, there was nothing that Wrathion could do to compel him.

“Left is fine,” he said, choosing to take the path of least resistance and give Anduin what he was asking for. “She doesn’t like to stand watch alone, it means there are gaps when she has to sleep, but it isn’t anything she can’t handle. She says Ephial is definitely working some magic in the woods, but couldn’t give me any details. Something about a big circle he’s drawing with lots of symbols around the edge. That, as I’m sure you know, could mean anything.” For the sake of precision, he started explaining all the different types of magic that used circles. Anduin’s light magic didn’t need them, but arcane arts relied on circles and symbols for everything from weather prediction to warfare. And that wasn’t even getting into the darker arts. It seemed that the more dangerous the magic, the more incantations and charms one had to memorize to make use of it. That, Wrathion reflected, was probably for the best.

What else was there? While he was talking, Anduin hadn’t looked happy exactly, but it was a definite improvement over the abject misery he’d walked in on. “Right checked in as well,” he told Anduin. “She’s met up with some of my agents not far from here, I think I’m going to arrange for them to come by here and drop off some supplies for the garrison. They have enough lumber from logging the forest, but they could use more stone to lay down building foundations. The Admiral is too busy to notice anything suspicious going on, anything I can do to lighten his workload can only help.”

At last, Anduin was smiling. Wrathion lost track of what he was saying when he noticed, too pleased with himself to remember. “You’re right,” Anduin said. “That should help everyone a lot.” Of course, Anduin would feel attached to the garrison. These were his people, he wanted to see them succeed. Wrathion wished he could say he had considered that when deciding to lend his aid to the construction.

“I’m hoping it will also help these people to trust me,” he said. “Right now nobody wants to speak to me, or listen to what I have to say. I’d like to tell them to keep an eye out, but that’s not possible if everyone goes the other way when I approach.” He was used to being shunned, most people avoided him once they learned of his ancestry, but in the past there had also been a steady stream of people who were curious. Curiosity could be used, he got most of his recruits that way. On a military base, things were a little different. The rigid discipline of the Stormwind army meant that curiosity was reserved for the officers, and anything they decided wasn’t worth the risk of investigating was ignored. For the moment, Admiral Taylor was ignoring him.

He was sure that there had to be soldiers within the garrison who were privately curious about them, it was just a matter of drawing them in. He’d lost a lot of Blacktalons in the wake of the trial, it would be nice if he could start finding interested parties again. Soon there would be adventurers coming from all corners of Azeroth and making their way across Draenor, but he might not have time to wait for them.

“I can pass along messages for you,” Anduin offered. “As long as what you want to say sounds reasonable.” He sat up, still looking slightly off, but at least making a token effort to stay present. Wrathion wondered if maybe he was coming down with something. Humans were so fragile, and they had been out in the cold.

“No, that’s not necessary.” He shook his head. If Anduin wasn’t feeling well, the last thing he needed was to run around the garrison doing errands. Besides, the day that he needed someone to vouch for his character in order to make other people like him was the day he would resign as leader of his Blacktalons and retire to the countryside. “I’m certain that the people here will come to trust me soon enough, and you don’t look very well. I can take care of it.”

To his surprise, Anduin didn’t argue. “Right,” he said, face going slightly red. “If you’re sure. Try talking to our guards first, they were asking me about you.”

* * *

 

 Anduin listened as Wrathion chatted with the guards outside, their voices muffled by the door so that he couldn’t pick out more than a few words at a time, and wondered, for the hundredth time that hour, how he’d managed to be so stupid. He’d been caught up, he supposed, in the adventure of it. At first it was a panicked rush to get to Draenor with Wrathion, to make sure he stayed safe, to figure out how to survive in a world that was unknown to him. Since then, they’d fallen more into a routine. It was easier to avoid wild animals, they knew how to tell what was good to eat and what wasn’t. He should have noticed then, with less to worry about and more time to himself.

And he had noticed, a little bit. He’d spent so much energy on trying to understand Wrathion and encouraging him to open up, he had just written it off as trying to maintain their friendship under so much stress. When he found himself watching Wrathion maybe a little too closely, he had told himself that he was just making sure that Wrathion was feeling all right. Nothing out of the ordinary. He hadn’t noticed himself falling for Wrathion, but as soon as he’d let himself think about the possibility it had all come crashing into him at once. And it was a disaster.

How was he supposed to get up and walk around and behave normally with this weighing down on him? He would have to try, because there was nothing else he could do. This was not something he could pursue. Wrathion would be a bad target for his interest even if he wasn’t a wanted criminal in every corner of Azeroth. He was too unstable, always working on his next big plan to save the world, and although his talk was big and easy to get swept away in, he rarely ever stopped to consider the long-term ramifications of his actions. He was young, impulsive, and had an inflated sense of his own importance. Most importantly, he was someone who Anduin’s father hated personally.

That was the one thing he couldn’t ignore. Wrathion might calm down when he was older, he might pick up his share of Draconic wisdom, he might decide to stop taking sole responsibility for the fate of Azeroth. If he could do that, then maybe he might not be such a risk to be around. However, even if all those things happened, his base personality would still be the same. Anduin knew his father well enough to be certain that if he ever met Wrathion, there would be a serious fight within minutes. He didn’t want to ever put himself in a position where he had to make a choice between them. He was allowed his friendship with Wrathion, his father viewing it as more of a childish whim than anything else, and if he wanted to be able to keep it then that couldn’t change.

Wrathion said something outside and then laughed, the sound sending a jolt through him. It was just the same as every other time he’d heard Wrathion laugh, but it felt so much more with the meaning behind it. How long had he been feeling this way, and just unable or unwilling to piece it all together? He knew there was a time when seeing Wrathion’s eyes glowing brightly didn’t make his stomach jump, when a casual conversation didn’t feel like the most exciting game ever played, but he couldn’t remember exactly when that was. Did it even matter? There was a jug of water on the windowsill, probably brought in by one of the guards earlier, and he resisted the urge to pour it over his head. Any momentary clearheadedness it might provide wouldn’t be worth the pain of trying to explain himself when Wrathion inevitably came back in to find water all over the floor.

 _Snap out of it_ , Anduin told himself roughly, shaking his head and forcing himself to get up. _This doesn’t change anything_. When he was recovering from being crushed by the Divine Bell, the healers had all told him that sitting still and waiting for the pain to recede would only make things worse. As soon as he was able, they’d made him stand up and walk. Using his limbs and working around the injuries was the only way they would heal, he’d been told. Practice. Find what doesn’t feel bad. What he was trying to manage now wasn’t a physical injury, but he’d found that moving around helped to soothe him mentally as well, even if all he could manage in this small room was uneven pacing along the walls.

He had to stop when Wrathion came back in, but it had helped a little. It was dark outside now, and fog from the ocean was settling over everything like a chilled blanket, or else he would have gone out and circled the grounds a few times. Wrathion looked at him oddly as he stopped his pacing and went to lie back down. Anduin was sure he was about to ask, again, if something was wrong. He closed his eyes, preparing the _“no, I’m fine”_ in advance, but Wrathion seemed to think better of it.

“I told our guards I’m worried about the Admiral,” he said instead. “How he seems overworked, and all. They said if I asked around nicely enough I could probably find some people to keep an eye on him for me, and let me know if they think there’s anything I can do to lighten the load for him, the poor man.” He leaned back on the headboard of his own bed, hands resting behind his head, looking immensely self-satisfied.

So he was viewing this as an opportunity to gain new followers. Anduin supposed he wasn’t surprised. “Everyone here was picked out for a reason,” he warned Wrathion. “Try not to destabilize things too much.” If a few soldiers decided they wanted in on Wrathion’s adventure, he couldn’t blame them, but a good base of fighters was as crucial to a garrison’s survival as the foundations of the garrison’s buildings.

“I want nothing more than to see this outpost thrive,” Wrathion assured him. “I’m just making sure that everyone stationed here knows that they have my full support.” He grinned at Anduin. “I also asked them if I could send a letter, for some reason they were a little less receptive to that idea. I was hoping I could get you to help me with that.”

With that look fixed on him it would be difficult to say no, but Anduin needed to know a little more about this new idea first. “Who would you be writing to?” he asked. Wrathion had his enchanted gems to speak with just about everyone he ever bothered with. Anduin didn’t think he’d ever seen him pick up a pen.

“The Kirin Tor,” Wrathion answered promptly. “I can’t write them as myself and expect an answer, but if I’m careful enough with my words I might be able to get some information about Ephial. I’m still not convinced he’s a legitimate member of their organization, so at the very least it might be worthwhile to tell someone he’s here.”

“I could give you Jaina’s private address at Dalaran,” Anduin said after a moment of thought. “You wouldn’t have to disguise your identity then, she doesn’t like you but she knows you’re with me. She’ll be careful about how she answers anything you send her.” He reached for his journal to get a scrap of paper. “Just don’t write anything weird.”

“I knew I could count on you,” said Wrathion happily. Anduin scribbled down the address and handed it over, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t react when their hands brushed together.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, announcement!
> 
> During my free time this week I've been off-and-on working on an overall outline for where this fic is going, right on down to the ending. THE END IS IN SIGHT. My original plan for this fic was to go over basically every noteworthy event in the expansion as a sort of roadtrippy adventure story. The original plan was also, as I've mentioned, for eight chapters, because I am not very good at estimating how long things take. It's become pretty obvious that covering the entire expansion just isn't feasible, so I've picked a place to stop and I'm satisfied with it. I'm looking to tie up some hanging plot threads and it looks like a good place to do that.
> 
> I have no idea how many more chapters I'll need to get there. Probably more than I'm expecting, so nobody panic. I'll give you all a heads-up when it's getting down to the last few chapters. I will also be trying to put extra effort into the chapters on this last bit, starting with the next chapter, so I can feel like I've really been able to put my best writing into this project. Lately I've been feeling like I've been dragging my feet on it, I want to step things up because I know that I can do better.
> 
> Also I'm officially giving up on sticking to the timeline presented in Admiral Taylor's garrison log. It's impossible to follow.

An inn had sprung up in the garrison, seemingly overnight, courtesy of an impressively large pile of supplies that had been left outside the gates one night. A note left with the supplies explained that they were a gift from the Black Prince Wrathion, to say thank you for the hospitality that had thus far been afforded him. Taylor had accepted the delivery, grudgingly, but only after putting it through a thorough search. He didn’t put it past Wrathion to try sneaking something dangerous into the garrison disguised as a gift. When confronted about it, he had only smiled his alarmingly pointy smile and explained that he admired the courageous spirit of the people who had traveled so far from home with a military operation, and wanted to see them succeed. Taylor did not believe a single word of it. What worried him was that Prince Anduin seemed to.

Wrathion was allowed to wander the garrison day and night, despite Taylor’s best efforts to put a stop to it. The guards insisted that they were watching him closely, and perhaps that was true, but their complete inability to keep him contained spoke to a bigger problem. Taylor thought he knew what it was. Anduin, apparently, had ceased to view Wrathion as the credible threat to the Alliance that he was, and his attitude was infectious. Nobody wanted to upset their Prince by acting against his wishes, even if he wasn’t trying to order them around. Even Taylor himself was guilty of this. The Prince might be a headache and a half to deal with, but he had to admit that he liked the kid. Everyone did.

The final straw had come just that morning, when he’d discovered Wrathion nosing around the officer’s quarters. As far as he could tell nothing was missing from his own belongings, but he’d sent the Black Prince away at swordpoint and instructed each of his officers to double check that nothing was out of place. Wrathion, for his part, had been annoyingly friendly upon being discovered, asking Taylor several very intrusive questions about his closest officers, and telling him not to trust Ephial. Then he’d retreated back to his room with a nonchalance that bordered on insulting.

Taylor would have loved to believe that Wrathion was just trying to get a reaction out of him, write the whole incident off as some sort of bizarre test, constructed by a mind that was not human and had incomprehensible priorities, but Ephial had reported that some of his books were out of place and that someone had broken his protective spells to read his travel journal. That kind of intrusion could not be swept aside or overlooked. A powerful, young, impulsive dragon with magical abilities that Taylor suspected he had never revealed the full extent of had gained access to the travel log and research notes of a competent mage working on a sensitive mission for the Alliance. He needed to find out what Wrathion had been looking for, if he had found it, and what he intended to do with the information he’d picked up.

He could not trust Wrathion to be sincere about his intentions, so his best option was to speak with Anduin and hope that his fondness for the Black Prince did not outweigh his loyalty to his home kingdom. With that in mind, he’d requested a meeting. The officer’s quarters were on the second floor of the newly complete barracks, so it was easy to hear the Prince approaching. He took the stairs slowly and carefully, and Taylor liked to believe that his hesitation was due only to his injuries acting up and not because of any wish to avoid speaking with him. There was no doubt that Anduin, being a smart young man, would have an idea of what this meeting was going to be about.

Anduin knocked quietly on the door, and in complete contrast to his father’s usual behavior, waited out in the hallway until Taylor called him in. He came in, shut the door behind him, sat down on the other side of Taylor’s desk, and leaned forward to cross his arms on the surface of it with a friendly smile. “Good afternoon, Admiral. You wanted to see me?” His poker face was improving, Taylor thought. He looked perfectly calm from the top of the desk up, but Taylor could hear one of his feet tapping nervously against the floor.

It was tempting to beat around the bush a little, see if he could get Anduin to admit to anything he knew without outright attacking him. However, Taylor had been in the military too long to let his sense of empathy get in the way of efficiency. “I caught your dragon friend snooping around in my room this morning,” he said, leveling a stern glare at Anduin. “In fact, it looks as though he may have been in every officer’s room.” Anduin couldn’t meet his eyes, which confirmed his suspicions. “You know what he was doing there.” It was not a question.

“I know what he was doing there.” Anduin nodded, his face a passive mask. Then the mask broke, and a small furrow of irritation appeared on his brow. “He said he wasn’t going to take anything.”

“And he didn’t,” Taylor said. It wasn’t meant to be reassuring, but Anduin’s face visibly relaxed. Taylor raised an eyebrow at him. That his Prince was not only aware of the intrusion but had seen fit to allow it to take place without notifying him was shocking to hear. “That doesn’t mean it was acceptable. I’ve been giving him a lot of freedom here because I assumed you could control him. Do I need to follow through on my original idea and lock him up?”

Anduin’s hands clenched into fists, but when he spoke his voice was still measured and even. “Wrathion is not my pet,” he said. “And he is not a citizen of Stormwind. I can’t order him around, and I don’t want to try.”

Taylor leaned back in his chair, taking in the sudden change in Anduin. Muscles tense, eyes wide and staring, jaw set in what would be a snarl if he opened his mouth to speak. Suddenly, it was exactly like being in a conversation with King Varian when his temper was close to breaking. Taylor put his hands up in a placating gesture. He hadn’t expected this to turn into a fight, and he was certain Anduin didn’t want that either. “All right, I’m sorry for upsetting you. But we’re not done talking about this, so please calm down.”

The anger vanished as quickly as it had arrived. Anduin closed his eyes and breathed deeply in and out. His fists opened and closed again once, then twice, and then he opened his eyes and his resemblance to Varian was gone. “I promise it won’t happen again,” he said quickly, as soon as the second part of what Taylor had said sank in. “Wrathion’s just paranoid, he was sure you were planning something to hurt him. I thought it would be okay if he looked around for ‘incriminating evidence’ because I knew he wouldn’t find anything. Please don’t try to imprison him, it’ll just make him more upset, right when he’s starting to let it go.”

It wasn’t the truth. Anduin’s eyes always darted around the room too much when he tried to lie, no matter how well-practiced the lie was. Taylor knew he was hiding something, and unless he missed his guess Anduin was fully aware that he knew. However, his story also did not give him the impression of being a complete fabrication. Anduin genuinely believed that Wrathion was behaving defensively, and not trying to cause anyone harm. Taylor wished that he could have faith in Anduin’s judgment. This was, after all, the dragon who freed Garrosh Hellscream, severely wounding the prison guards on the way. He was the reason they were all here, and many lives had been lost in the war that he had caused. There was nothing in his past actions to indicate that he was a creature of peace, no matter how hard Prince Anduin tried to believe it.

Technically, he did not have the ability to dismiss the Prince of Stormwind from his quarters, so he stopped himself before doing so. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said instead. “You’re welcome to go. Tell him that if I catch him touching anyone else’s possessions again I’ll have him clapped in irons and kept in isolation until the King arrives to deal with him.”

He watched Anduin go, rubbing at his temples with one hand. An officer’s salary wasn’t enough for dealing with this.

* * *

 

 “I hope you’re almost done with that, because you got us both in trouble.” Anduin shut the door by leaning against it and crossing his arms. “If Taylor decides to keep us in here, I won’t be able to send it for you.”

Wrathion looked up briefly at Anduin, registered that annoyance was genuine, and put the pen aside with a sigh. “I told you, Ephial’s journal made mention of another officer who shares his ideals. I had to check everyone, you know I did.” He dug his claws into the wood of the desk, not hard enough to leave any serious damage, but just enough that he could feel the fibers giving way beneath his grip. “It would be better if most of the entries weren’t unreadable, but I am very sure of what little I did find.” Either Ephial was using an unknown shorthand or he was just insane, because Wrathion could not make heads or tails of what he’d written on more than a few pages. What he had managed to decipher was enough to be alarming, with notes about ley lines and rituals, as well as some choice insults about Admiral Taylor. A few pages near the back had contained sketches of magic circles.

Magic circles were a staple of most kinds of spellwork, and their function varied depending on the runes inscribed on them. Because Wrathion couldn’t read the runes in Ephial’s sketches he couldn’t be sure what they were for, but there was enough intelligible instability in the rest of the journal to make him sure it couldn’t be anything good. He’d memorized the basic layout of the circles, as well as a few of the runes, and was copying them down to send to Lady Proudmoore, along with a politely-worded note asking if there was anyone in the Kirin Tor who recognized those symbols, and inquiring which blistering idiot had decided that someone so visibly creepy should be sent out with a group of unsuspecting people into the uncharted wilderness.

Anduin kept looking over his shoulder and suggesting edits, usually to make his phrasing sound less aggressive. Wrathion resented that. He wanted everyone to know the depths of his disapproval. The challenges of managing an organization were known to him, it was difficult to make sure that every one of his Blacktalons was doing what they were supposed to do at any given time. However, that did not give him any inclination to feel sympathetic toward the Kirin Tor leadership. They had several people on their council, surely at least one of them could have devoted the time to performing a background check on their chosen ambassadors. If anyone in Dalaran had looked at Ephial’s work for longer than a minute, he was sure they would have seen that something was wrong and taken him off the mission.

“Focus, Wrathion,” Anduin said after making him scratch out another line of thinly-veiled insults. “If you really need to say all that, you can take it up with the Kirin Tor in person once we get out of here.” The frustrating part was that he was right. As much as Wrathion hated to admit it, this letter was not a request for information so much as it was a call for help, and there was nobody who would be willing to look twice at the situation if they felt that their own competence was being called into question.

He blew an irritated puff of smoke out the corner of his mouth and finished the paragraph in a rough scrawl. After a moment’s contemplation, he signed his name at the bottom of the page and passed it over his shoulder to Anduin. It wasn’t good enough, but there was probably nothing he could say to Proudmoore that would be good enough to compel her to assist him. All he could do was hope that the information contained within it would stand on its own. Already, his mind was hard at work constructing two plans of action, one for the possibility that his letter would be read, and the other for the possibility that it would be thrown into the fireplace without even being opened.

She would read it. She would have to. Anduin cared enough about her to include her as a part of his family, surely such things worked both ways. The real question was what was most likely to happen once he’d brought his suspicions to light. Even if his words weren’t dismissed outright as lies, he’d had very few dealings with the Kirin Tor in the past. He wasn’t sure what to expect from them, and there were so many possibilities to sort through that he barely noticed Anduin leaving. The letter would be taken to the guards at the gate, to be delivered to Sourthport with the next rider, and with any luck it would arrive in Dalaran quickly.

How soon was soon enough? Time wasn’t going to stop here while he waited for his message to be received. Sitting around and waiting for Ephial to do whatever he was going to sounded like a terrible plan, but the limits of what he could do in this situation were swiftly approaching. He’d already stepped on the Admiral’s toes too many times, he was painfully aware of the fact that the only reason he hadn’t been locked up or attacked was Anduin’s influence.

Being friends with a prince of the Alliance had its benefits, but Wrathion found himself strangely reluctant to take advantage of them. Anduin was vouching for him, which meant he had to be on his best behavior. Not that he didn’t always strive to make a good impression, it was just that there were unspoken rules to polite society that he found served no function except to slow things down. He was aware of them, crossing a line always garnered some reaction, he just didn’t see the use of tiptoeing around a situation for the sake of politeness when the best way forward was right there and available for anyone’s use.

Those rules were especially pronounced within this military base, and they were stifling. Even though he was following them to the very best of his ability while working, it seemed that his very best was still not enough. He’d put up with weapons being pointed in his face, and hadn’t responded defensively even to the most overt threats of punishment. He had gone out of his way to be friendly, taken the trouble to secure resources for the garrison, and he was doing his level best to avert something he was sure would be a catastrophe, and he was still being treated like an ordinary criminal. It was infuriating. How was he supposed to get anything done this way?

He was pulled out of those thoughts by an indistinct noise in his head, a signal that someone with one of his gems was trying to get in touch with him. Focusing in on it, he backed into the corner of the room furthest from the door to answer. “Repeat that.”

_“Trouble headed to the garrison, keep your eyes open.”_ It was Left.

Wrathion frowned. “Can’t you take care of it?” He’d posted her outside the wall for a reason, and that was to dispatch incoming threats.

Left always responded very poorly to negative assessments of her skill, so her response sounded a bit clipped. _“I think I’d better not. It’s a group of ogres, bigger than any I’ve seen on Azeroth. They don’t look aggressive, but they’re armed and heading for the garrison gate.”_

Which was where Anduin was. Wrathion cut off a loud curse by biting his tongue. It wouldn’t do for anyone to overhear and think he had something to do with this. He got up and rushed over to the window to look out toward the gate. A crowd was forming already, the ogres must not be doing anything to hide their presence. As if the presence of an ogre could be concealed. Scanning the crowd, Wrathion strained his eyes looking for Anduin, but couldn’t see him among all the soldiers. He didn’t hear any shouting, and nobody seemed to be running away.

Scratch that. One person was running. Nobody else followed suit, but a single soldier broke away from the group and bolted through the garrison, heading for the barracks. Wrathion pushed himself away from the window and hurried out of the room, he wanted to be there when the soldier gave his report to the Admiral. It must be urgent, for him to run like that.

Everyone remaining in the barracks stared at him when he burst out into the common area, which served as a more effective check on his demeanor than anything he could have done himself. He realized he was in a defensive stance, and forced himself to stand up straight, shoulders back, face relaxed. Rule one of effectively listening in on important business was to look uninterested.

Admiral Taylor emerged from his own quarters a moment later and spared a moment to stare Wrathion down before moving on to reprimand the soldier who had just arrived for breaking military discipline and running. The poor man was out of breath from his sprint, and had trouble composing himself enough to form a defense. Once he could speak again, he interrupted the Admiral. “Ogres, sir. Five of them. They’re demanding to speak to you immediately.”

Wrathion mentally took back everything he’d been thinking about Left’s decision not to engage with the intruders. One ogre was a formidable opponent for most mortals, Left could handle two or three. Five was a lot. Wrathion himself would think twice before trying to fight five ogres at once. He could still do it of course, if he had sufficient preparation for such a battle, but he understood Left’s choice.

“Don’t interrupt me Corporal,” Admiral Taylor snapped. “Make me tell you again and I’ll have you digging trenches for a week. Now, show me to our visitors. Of course I’ll speak with them.” He left the barracks two steps behind the soldier. Wrathion followed them up to the door, but before he could take a single step outside Taylor turned back around to face him. “You stay there, dragon. This is a delicate operation, I don’t need you there to stir things up.”

He walked away again. Several men in the barracks moved to herd Wrathion away from the door, stopping in their tracks when he let out a low warning growl. His tolerance for condescension had run out. Anduin was over there because he was doing a favor for him, so that meant he had a personal involvement. He wouldn’t be turned away. Pushing contemptuously past the nearest soldiers, he walked out onto the grounds and headed for the gate, trailing the Admiral and his escort at a distance.

* * *

 

 Things had gotten very exciting very quickly. Anduin pushed against the crowd of frightened soldiers, every one of them with their hands on their weapon, ready to defend their base even through their fear, and tried to get a better look at the ogres. It was extremely uncommon to see them on Azeroth unless one went out into the most inhospitable parts of the land. The closest he’d ever been to one before was seeing the ogre that Silas Darkmoon employed advertising for the faire in Goldshire once when he was out riding with his father. Aside from that, he had no experience with them. He knew from reading that they favored the frozen mountains of Alterac, that they lived in caves, and that they were, with rare exceptions, unintelligent and aggressive.

The ogres here did not look unintelligent. At least, not as much as people claimed. They stood confidently in the open gate, not allowing the guards to close them out but not intruding upon the grounds of the garrison. Anduin got the impression that this show of politeness was for the ogres’ own amusement rather than coming from any serious respect for the soldiers. Underneath their roughly formed metal helmets, the eyes of the ogres were sharp, scanning the crowd and taking note of every armed soldier within the crowd. They were smiling, and speaking back and forth in their own language, obviously finding the show of force to be funny.

Anduin stood on his toes to try and look over the heads of the crowd. Someday, he was told, his fathers genes would kick in and he would grow taller. It hadn’t happened yet. Most of the people surrounding him were still much bigger than he was, and even though the ogres towered over the crowd, he felt like he couldn’t get a good look at them.

Someone at the back of the crowd called for everyone to move, and a space began forming for Admiral Taylor to walk through. Standing at his full height, he was not even half as tall as the smallest ogre, but he marched right up to the group of them without any hesitation. “This is a secure military operation,” he said. “For what purpose are you intruding?”

The largest of the ogres took a step forward, shaking the ground beneath him slightly with the impact, and held out a rolled up scroll of paper to Admiral Taylor that was nearly as long from end to end as one of his arms. “An invitation,” the ogre explained in a deep, rumbling voice. “We have taken notice of your people coming to live on our lands, and invite you to prove you are worthy to settle here. The letter explains everything.” He gave Taylor an especially vicious grin..

“I’ll take it into consideration,” Taylor said. “If you have no other business here, please go. You’re disturbing the daily operation of my garrison.” He returned the ogre’s stare unflinchingly.

For a tense minute, it looked as if they weren’t going to go. As firm and diplomatic as Taylor was being, it hadn’t made an impression on them. They looked around the garrison, sizing it up, arms swinging casually at their sides and calling attention to the massive clubs each one carried. Finally, finding nothing of interest, the group turned to go. The leader thumped his first to his chest in a mocking salute, and they lumbered off down the forest path with surprising speed.

Anduin watched them go with relief. None of Taylor’s followers had lost their nerve and attacked, the situation hadn’t escalated. He wondered how that ogre had learned to speak Common so well, from what he knew it was mostly the double-headed ones who bothered learning the finer points of other languages. Maybe it was better not to know. He stood there thinking even as the guards closed the garrison gate and began shooing people away.

He only noticed that the crowd had dispersed when an armored hand landed on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t be out here,” Taylor said, frowning at him. “Who knows that those things would be capable of doing if they got wind that the King’s son was part of the crowd clamoring for a look at them.”

It wasn’t worth arguing, Anduin decided. He could explain that he hadn’t _meant_ to be out by the gate when a group of ogres showed up, because really there was no way to predict that, but it wouldn’t matter to Taylor. All he saw was Anduin in danger, again. “Sorry for worrying you,” Anduin said instead. “I kind of got caught up in the crowd.” He hoped that would stand on its own as a good reason, it was hard to go anywhere with so many people pressed up against you on all sides.

Taylor let out an annoyed grunt and clapped him on the back, steering him unsubtly back toward the barracks. “If I have to assign you personal bodyguards, the way your father does, I will.” Then he looked up and his eyes narrowed. “I told you to stay put.”

Anduin followed Taylor’s gaze and landed on Wrathion, who was approaching them at a brisk pace. His heart jumped in his chest, and he mentally scolded himself. He had just seen Wrathion not twenty minutes ago, there was no need to be reacting like that. The feeling was hard to ignore though, and it only intensified when Wrathion ignored Taylor and came to stand next to him.

“I heard there might be trouble,” Wrathion said. “I came to see if I was needed. I’m glad to find that I was not.” He seemed to be answering Taylor, but kept his eyes on Anduin.

He could resist the urge to clear his throat, he could keep himself from fidgeting nervously, but there was nothing he could do to keep his face from going red. Anduin turned his head to the side so Taylor wouldn’t notice. Avoiding Wrathion’s sight was a lost cause, especially while standing right next to him.

“If there was trouble you’d be the last person I would call.” Taylor shook his head and regarded the note from the ogres with suspicion. “I’m going to deal with this, see what they want, and I’ll need peace to think. So I’d better not hear anything about either of you getting into trouble.”

Anduin found his voice again. “Will you tell me what it says when you’ve read it?” He wanted to know what the ogre had meant when he spoke about other people from Azeroth. It hadn’t looked good, the ogre had looked far too happy. Someone could be in danger. If so, Anduin wanted to see to it that they were helped.

Taylor made a noncommittal noise, eyes scanning the first line of the invitation. He swore under his breath, brows pulling down into a scowl, and called over the nearest soldier. “Go and tell the officers I want to see them all as soon as they’re finished with their daily tasks,” he said. “I have something to discuss with them.” Then he left, already back in command mode, seemingly having forgotten about Anduin’s question entirely.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *finger guns* I had a great time writing the first thousand words or so of this chapter and then whatever magic writing power came over me left again. Please take extra care to appreciate that section, since I still like it, which almost never happens. 
> 
> Having an overall outline for the story direction doesn't help me much with the details, and I changed my mind about exactly what I wanted to have happen here about ten times during the writing process, which probably still shows a little. I think/hope I settled on the option that makes the most sense. I caught a lot of typos while preparing to post, so let me know if you see any I missed.

Something was wrong. Wrathion could tell because the steady tide of activity in the garrison had been disrupted. Patrolmen still walked their routes, and the guards in the watchtowers remained where they were, but the rest of the garrison was subdued. Not quiet, there were still people working everywhere he could see, just focused. Directed. Channeling all their energies one way, instead of spreading them out to cover many different tasks. And the hub of the activity, the one place he could not access, was Admiral Taylor’s private quarters.

It had been easy to sneak in the first time. The Admiral kept his door locked, but Wrathion had learned to pick locks almost as soon as he was out of the egg. But he had gone in while the room was deserted, slipped past the guards while their attention was momentarily elsewhere. There would be no such opportunities anymore. After that break in, Admiral Taylor had increased the security in that particular corridor, and was more often inside the room than not, keeping watch over his own space like he trusted no one else to do it. He was there now, giving orders that were unknown to Wrathion, to ends that remained a mystery.

Another set of footsteps from the entrance of the barracks to the Admiral’s quarters. Wrathion mentally tracked this person’s route through the building, listening intently through the door while trying very hard not to look like he was the sort of person who would resort to listening at doors. From his room’s location, in a corner of the building, he could not see out into the common area, and had to guess who might be coming in now by watching their shadows on the wall. It was an impossible task, and he was getting more and more frustrated with each arrival or departure.

A quiet rustle caught his attention and set him to grinding his teeth. Anduin had borrowed a stack of books from some of the other rooms, and was lying on his bed steadily making his way through them. He wasn’t even _pretending_ to help, which Wrathion would complain about if he didn’t know how undignified it would be. Every so often he would put down the book he was on and try to call Wrathion away from his vantage point, and it seemed that he was about to try again. Wrathion exhaled sharply through his nose, forced his shoulders down, and waited.

“We’ll find out what he’s up to in there when everyone else does,” Anduin said calmly. “He’s been calling in so many people, he’s bound to make a public announcement at some point. Everyone else is curious too.” He sat up and gestured invitingly at the pile of books. “Some of these are pretty interesting, you might like them.” He had that voice on again, the one that, when Wrathion had first met him, he’d thought was sarcastic. Then he’d learned a bit more about Anduin and realized that no, he actually was just that earnestly friendly. Even at a time like this.

Because he really did like that about Anduin, despite the inherent futility of it, and because he knew it was best to encourage things he liked, he granted Anduin the courtesy of turning to face him when he answered. “You’re asking me to step away and ignore a very delicate situation,” he said. “My status here is uncertain and, I believe, dictated fully by the good Admiral’s whims. Whatever is going on in that room, it directly affects me. I don’t want to wait to find out what it is. I want to know, now.” It seemed to him that there was little point in having this conversation again. He’d already explained all this to Anduin several times, and he knew that Anduin had been listening. Making him go over it again could not possibly accomplish anything, he wondered briefly if Anduin was just trying to get on his nerves.

“It’s really not as bad as you think,” Anduin said. “Admiral Taylor really doesn’t want to upset me, and I’ve made it pretty clear that I want you here.” He looked very uncomfortable, but he continued anyway. “Besides, I think he knows that you’d be almost impossible to actually restrain. It would be embarrassing for everyone. He’ll save it for when you do something really bad.” When, not if. Anduin really was trying to annoy him.

It wasn’t working, but only because Wrathion was so consumed by his need to know what was happening in that room that none of his emotional responses were working correctly. He should be able to describe how he felt as _curious_ or _interested_ but neither of those registered within his mind. The only thing he was aware of was a growing tension, one that was distressingly familiar, but which he had no power to banish. He tried to remember to breathe the way he’d been taught, slow and steady, to minimize his presence and blend into the shadows. He had to focus on listening, taking in information and not leaping to conclusions. Picking through the scraps he’d collected wouldn’t help until he had enough to put them together, so until then, he just shouldn’t think about it.

Shouldn’t think about how he knew he’d heard Ephial speaking to Taylor earlier, his voice sounding confident and self-assured even though the sound was muffled enough that he couldn’t identify the words. Or about how he knew there was at least one other officer who was a traitor, but he had no idea who it could be. How nobody ever listened to him when he was trying to tell them something was wrong, how his letter to Dalaran had probably been thrown in a fireplace before ever reaching its intended recipient, how he was going to have to handle this by himself the way he always did.

His heart thumped once, so hard he imagined he could hear the beat in his ears, and he pressed himself up against the wall as if that would make it stop. _Not this again_ , he thought. _I don’t have time_. He’d been fine, even the incident with the Saberon hadn’t rattled him, it wasn’t fair that this relatively small problem should be getting to him. His injuries from that incident were mostly healed and there were no immediate threats, nothing that would warrant any kind of distress. It was only the uncertainty of the situation that was getting to him, and he should be used to that by now. Uncertainty was nothing new to him, he moved around constantly and never knew if any of his plans would pan out.

There was no way to subtly disguise a sudden need to lean on the nearest sturdy surface, but he’d been hoping that Anduin would look the other way and let the moment pass by without comment. He had no such luck, and cringed when he heard the soft intake of breath that meant Anduin had noticed. The only thing worse than feeling this way was having somebody else see. His enemies would take it as weakness, and his allies would lose respect for him.

He reminded himself that Anduin had seen him looking worse, and managed to keep himself from lashing out as Anduin got up and walked over to him. “Come away from there,” Anduin said, putting a hand on Wrathion’s shoulder and tugging him gently off the wall. “Just for a minute, come sit.”

All of his arguments fizzled out before they reached his mouth. What was he hoping to accomplish by staying in this spot? He had already established very well that he could not determine what was happening from what he could see and hear. The touch on his shoulder was grounding, and he allowed himself to be led away from the door without any real awareness of anything else around him. Anduin gently kicked the door shut as they passed, guiding Wrathion back across the room to sit heavily on the end of his bed.

* * *

 

 Unsure what to do, but operating under the assumption that standard gestures of comfort probably wouldn’t make anything worse, Anduin pulled a blanket off his own bed and carried it over to Wrathion. He wrapped it firmly around his shoulders, fumbling with the edges a bit. When he was finished he stood back and evaluated his handiwork. Wrathion had a grip on the edges of the blanket with one hand, digging his claws into the material to keep it from sliding off. Otherwise, he hadn’t responded at all. He was lost in thought still, his eyes darting around the room without settling on any one thing.

“Do you want anything?” Anduin asked, wishing very hard that Left or Right could be there with them. He hated the idea of leaving Wrathion alone with his thoughts when they were so clearly upsetting, but he hated the idea of standing around not helping even more. Getting Wrathion out of his own head would help too, even if it was just for a moment. “Water, or another blanket, or something?”

Wrathion shook his head. “No,” he said, pronouncing the word with such force that it sounded like he’d been waiting to be asked. “I don’t need anything. Stay here.”

He looked steadier already, and the fact that he wanted Anduin to stay was flattering enough that he could ignore the impoliteness of the order. Careful not to overstep a boundary by accident, Anduin sat calmly next to him, just close enough that their arms were touching. Right away, he could feel Wrathion leaning into him, although it was slight enough that he was sure it was involuntary. He set his jaw as something very like pain shot through his chest like a spike being driven in. He wanted to wrap his arms around Wrathion and pull him close, and he was sure that Wrathion wouldn’t mind it.

Never before had the intricacies of politics bothered him so much. He had always found it interesting, and even sort of fun, to watch his mentors in the political sphere negotiate the pitfalls of keeping enemies pacified and allies happy. When he’d been forced for a short time to assume the title of king he had been out of his depth, but had struck out against the challenge all the same. Finding that his feelings ran up against his political duties and could not be safely reconciled with them felt like a betrayal from within himself. Although he was not as heavily restricted as the King, he knew that his behavior was monitored by both factions. Pursuing a relationship with an individual who had been declared an enemy by all of Azeroth could not be considered politically neutral, and the reputation of the kingdom of Stormwind would suffer for it.

The thought that they were far from Azeroth and isolated from anyone who would care kept trying to intrude, and would not be easily banished. Their guards at the garrison were friendly, and never bothered them unless they thought something was wrong. It wouldn’t be difficult to hide. But neither, he reminded himself sadly, would it be fair to either of them. Maintaining a deception over time took energy, it was emotionally draining, and he was of the belief that it should only be resorted to in emergencies. He didn’t want to have to hide Wrathion.

Even though he’d resolved not to try to cross any lines, he couldn’t help leaning back against Wrathion, matching his slight pressure so that the contact couldn’t be ignored. It was to comfort Wrathion, he told himself. Being close with another person was the best remedy for emotional upsets, and he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary for a friendship. There was still a small amount of guilt lurking in the back of his mind, because he knew that he was lying to himself, but he could push it down and ignore it in favor of listening to Wrathion’s breathing slow down. He hadn’t worked himself up as badly as he had the night they’d camped by the marsh, Anduin was confident that he would be back to normal in no time and ready to put the entire thing behind him. Selfishly, he hoped that Wrathion would choose to remember how nice it felt to sit together like this, no words necessary, just shared space and quiet breathing.

Wrathion seemed to have fully calmed after twenty or so minutes of sitting like that, but didn’t try to get up or go back to the door. Anduin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t, but he didn’t seem fully awake either. His eyes were half closed and he had a pensive expression on his face. Not a happy one, but a far cry from the panicked expression he’d had earlier. While Anduin watched, his brow furrowed slightly like he was trying to make sense of something. Anduin turned his head to get a better look, face softening at the sight. He could feel a smile coming on, knew he probably looked ridiculous, and was completely powerless to change that.

The motion seemed to startle Wrathion out of his reverie. He looked at Anduin, and instead of berating him for staring he smiled slowly back, the expression spreading across his face piece by piece. Their eyes met, and he held the gaze for long enough to make Anduin feel dizzy. Then he stood up, so suddenly that it took Anduin a second to adjust to the change and raise his eyes back up to Wrathion’s face. “I’ve thought it over,” said Wrathion. “You may have a point. I don’t have a real chance of finding out what the Admiral is so concerned about by spying in the doorway.”

“So what are you going to do instead?” Anduin asked, immediately wary. Wrathion had promised him again that he would stay out of trouble, but he was always bending the definition of what exactly counted as trouble. Anduin had been hoping to keep him calm for a little bit longer, so he wouldn’t do anything reckless.

Wrathion shrugged, a gesture obviously intended to remove the impact of his sentence. “Oh, who knows. That damn mage,” he said with that part with a slight growl, “left a while ago. I heard him say he’d stop by the inn and ask something of the innkeepers, I might go and see what he wanted. Or maybe if he’s still there I can have a chat with him, cut out the middleman.”

“What, by yourself? You don’t want to bring backup?” Anduin was surprised to hear that. Of the two of them, Wrathion was far more cautious about Ephial. He certainly was up to something, Anduin couldn’t deny that, but he thought it was likely to be some kind of political maneuver, perhaps to gain more power within the garrison. Wrathion, on the other hand, believed that he was a serious danger. Not the kind of opponent he usually made a habit of confronting directly, at least not before he knew the full scope of their abilities.

“Of course I want to,” Wrathion said, with a slight roll of his eyes. “I want to delegate it, maybe send one of my Blacktalon spies to shadow him. They’re staying close enough that I could do that, but there’s enough guards here that it creates a high risk they’d be found. So I can’t directly confront him.” He walked back and forth between the door and the end of his bed while he spoke. “But that’s not the main focus right now. The goal is to figure out what Admiral Taylor just asked him to do, because I bet it’s important, and I doubt it’s going to get done.” He shrugged again. “He won’t tell me anything, of course, but maybe I can read between the lines to work out what he’s _not_ telling me.”

“Or we could stay here and wait for Taylor to finish his meetings,” Anduin sighed, shaking his head. “Don’t be so impatient. Once he’s done I can go ask him what’s happening. The version he tells me is definitely going to be more accurate from the version you can get from someone who knows you’ve been spying on him.”

Wrathion stopped his slow pacing around the room and stood still, staring at the ground and frowning. Anduin could practially see the wheels turning in his head. He realized that Anduin was right, then, and instead of conceding the point he was trying to think up something else to do. Anduin knew he hated having to wait and react to things, he always wanted to be the first one to act and force others to react to him. His style was to get ahead of the game and trap people with his own actions so that events would unfold in only the specific way he could see in his head. The hard part was getting him to accept when that wasn’t possible.

“Nobody listens to me,” Wrathion said eventually, almost to himself. He sat back down next to Anduin, and then fell backward to lie down with an exasperated sigh. “I told that fool Admiral not to trust the mage, and he’s gone and set him up privately with even more errands. Just because I’m a black dragon and he thinks I’m out to get him is no reason not to listen when what I’m saying makes sense.”

Privately, Anduin thought that was a very good reason. He liked to consider himself an exceptionally open-minded person, but even he would hesitate to take advice from somebody who he thought was out to get him. He didn’t say as much to Wrathion, because he did understand the frustration he was feeling. Not being listened to was a sensation he was familiar with, and he often crossed paths with people who assumed that someone his age could not possibly know what they were talking about. Trying to make himself heard at those times was a nightmare, and made him wonder if he would ever be taken seriously as a leader.

Wrathion lifted one hand up toward the ceiling, turning it over and watching the light reflect off his own claws. “Even you’re not listening to me,” he said. It sounded like an afterthought, but Anduin felt in his gut that it couldn’t be. “You don’t think I’m right about how serious all this is.”

What could he say to that? Wrathion had a point. He knew something was brewing, but he’d been dismissing the possibility that it was as serious as Wrathion said. Did he have a reason to do that? After all, Wrathion was the one who had been tracking bad magic around the garrison. If Anduin couldn’t trust his own senses, he had to rely on Wrathion’s,

“I’m trying to listen,” he said after a minute, lying down carefully to look Wrathion in the eye.

“I know you are.” Wrathion let his arm drop into the space between them. The back of his hand came to rest against Anduin’s, and he didn’t move it away.

* * *

 

 Time passed, in the slow, disjointed way it did when it was not being directly observed. The drab colors of the room, which normally would contribute to sending Wrathion into a frenzy of boredom, helped his consciousness detach for a time from reality. If there was truly nothing he could do, a voice in his head whispered to him, why shouldn’t he drift off? It was one of the few skills that did not come easily to him, normally when he stopped focusing on the present his mind took him to the future, set him running through potential outcomes and complicated plans until he was exhausted. Moments where he could sit still without thinking about anything in particular were rare, and it was even less common that he had the time to enjoy them while they lasted.

It was easier with Anduin, an observation that he took note of and sent back on its way into his stream of consciousness. He had no desire to pick that apart, unsure whether it was a good or bad thing. On one hand, he had to concede that it might be good for him to stop thinking so hard every now and then. Just as he was always more productive in the mornings after he’d slept for a few hours, taking occasional mental breaks might actually help him work more efficiently, even if it felt like the opposite. He would have to keep an eye on that, if this letting go of the present became something he could do at will. On the other hand, it did indicate a potential weakness that might have to be addressed.

All these thoughts passed him by without any sense of active participation. He wasn’t trying to call them up, just watching as they appeared and faded out again. The only thing he maintained consistent focus on was the slight warmth where his hand was touching Anduin’s. It stuck out to him like a candle glowing in a dark room, present but not overwhelming. The sense that he should be getting up was still present, scratching at the back of his mind and demanding that he get up, make plans, do something to prepare for his enemy’s next move. It was just softer than usual, smaller and less threatening. If he reminded himself that he had done all he could reasonably do for the time being, it ceased its clamoring for a time.

A knock on the door cut through the moment like a knife, startling him back to the present and switching all of his senses onto high alert. Anduin shot upright and jumped to his feet at once, much faster than Wrathion would have thought was possible, and stumbled slightly as his bad leg adjusted to the sudden change. “Who is it?” he called, worrying for a moment with his sleeves and looking unsure of what to do with himself.

“It’s just me,” came the gruff voice of Admiral Taylor from the other side of the door. “Can I come in? I’ve got something to talk to you about.” The tone of his voice suggested that the question was just a courtesy and that he would be entering the room whatever Anduin said.

“Yes, of course.” After a moment’s indecision, Anduin flung himself down into a chair on the opposite side of the room from Wrathion, and hurriedly gestured for him to sit up. He did so reluctantly, unconvinced that the Admiral was worth such a fuss. If he wasn’t going to be respected, he didn’t see much point in showing any respect for the Admiral in return.

Admiral Taylor pushed the door open and came inside, claiming the other chair. He looked exhausted, sitting limply in the chair rather than adopting the upright, sturdy pose favored by military commanders. He spared Wrathion a quick glance. “Does he have to be here?” he asked Anduin.

Wrathion straightened his back and opened his mouth in outrage, all ready to accept the obvious invitation for a fight. He was cut off by Anduin, who quickly took the opportunity to speak up while Wrathion was still deciding on the best insults to start out with. “Anything you tell me, I’m just going to tell him later. You might as well let him stay.”

Nobody was going to ‘let’ him do anything, Wrathion fumed silently. He would do exactly as he pleased at all times, and if he ever bowed to the whims of others it was only over unimportant matters, to keep whatever tentative peace could be had. Anduin wanted him to stay quiet and not pick a fight, and he would do so, but only because learning what the Admiral had to say was the most important priority right now. Anduin shot him a consoling look, which let him know that he’d been aware of the insult and hadn’t meant it seriously. Wrathion frowned back, but his anger deflated a little. He would complain to Anduin about what he’d said afterward, and then they would make up, and everything would be fine again. That knowledge in mind, he was able to give the Admiral his full attention.

“The invitation we got is more than a little suspect,” Admiral Taylor began. “It’s from a goblin up in Nagrand, inviting us to participate in the Ring of Blood, a sort of gladiatorial combat competition run by the local ogres.”

Anduin cringed. From what Wrathion understood, his father had been involved in a similar type of activity during one of the darker points in Stormwind’s history, so he didn’t blame Anduin for having an instinctive distaste for the idea. “You’re not going to go, are you?” he asked.

Admiral Taylor sighed. “Normally, I wouldn’t. Combat trials and tests of strength can be enjoyable, but it’s very far and the garrison isn’t fully complete yet.” He leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees, bringing him closer to Anduin so he could speak more quietly, in a vain attempt to somehow keep Wrathion from hearing. “Thing is, this particular bunch of ogres hasn’t been overtly attacking our teams in that area. They’re aggressive only if we send scouts to evaluate them, but haven’t been going out of their way to kill. This goblin who sent the letter, we got a briefing about him weeks ago. He’s someone the Horde sent in. They’re keeping him captive, although it looks like he’s managed to carve out a niche for himself.” He punctuated that statement with a wry grin. “Typical goblin. Anyway, this might be a chance for us to show the ogres that we’re worth negotiating with, or at least to persuade them to leave our forces alone.”

“But you’re going to be fighting them.” Anduin squinted at Admiral Taylor, trying to work out the catch. “Surely they’ll be upset if you win?”

Taylor shook his head. “That’s not how ogres think. They only respect strength, their leadership is decided mainly by combat. If we can beat their challenges, it should make them like us better. I don’t like it either, but it looks like we need to do it, so I’m leaving in the morning with two of my top fighters.”

A cold, awful sense of foreboding settled in Wrathion’s gut. He stood up, drawing Taylor’s attention, and ignored the looks Anduin was sending him. “You can’t just leave!” He pointed a finger accusingly at Taylor. “What kind of commander are you if you’ll abandon your men at a time like this? I’ve tried to tell you, your mage is plotting something. If you leave, it will give him exactly the kind of opening he needs.”

“Contrary to what you seem to think,” Taylor said in an icy tone, leveling Wrathion with a glare that would cause a lesser dragon to shake in his boots, “you are not the only person in this garrison who is competent.” He waited a moment to see if there was any further argument coming, then continued. “I am not blind, deaf, or mentally unsound, and I am capable of seeing for myself that Ephial has been behaving strangely since we landed here. That’s why I’m leaving Dunberlin in charge, he’s a veteran officer and he’ll keep things running while I’m gone.”

Wrathion thought back and tried to remember if he knew Dunberlin. The officers had all been wary of him, and he hadn’t been able to get a good look at most of them. It didn’t matter either way, he decided. He didn’t trust the officers either, any of them could be working with Ephial. There was more than one traitor in this garrison, and for Taylor to willingly leave it in this state was infuriatingly negligent.

Anduin cleared his throat. “I think he has a point,” he said. “It’s a lot of risk, and if you get hurt or,” he paused, “or worse, then the garrison won’t have any long-term leadership. I’m sure Dunberlin will be fine for a while, but my father put you in charge here for a reason.” Wrathion smiled at him, grateful for the support.

Taylor scoffed. “The day I can’t hold my own in a fight is the day I throw my sword into an active volcano and retire to the countryside,” he said. “I’m confident that we’ll be more than strong enough for whatever the ogres throw at us.” He stood up. “No more questions? Good. I’m leaving you under increased guard, and I expect to see you both still here and in one piece when I get back.”

With a last look over his shoulder, he strode out and shut the door firmly behind him. Wrathion exchanged a dismal look with Anduin. Neither of them wanted to say it out loud, but he knew that they were both thinking the same thing. With Admiral Taylor gone, things were going to get very bad, very soon.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since we checked in on papa Varian, so here he is in case anyone was missing him. I don't really like this chapter, but it's important for moving things forward.

Locking the door to her private chambers, Jaina Proudmoore took a deep, slow breath and began the process of clearing her mind. Although the spell she was going to attempt was not complicated, it would be difficult to reach the level of accuracy with it that she wanted. On a table nearby lay a letter, written in beautiful script but with what seemed like every third sentence scratched out. She had very little reason to doubt its authenticity, the envelope it had arrived in was certainly battered enough to have traveled from another world. Still, one of the many things she had learned during the many years she had lived in Dalaran was that it never hurt to be sure.

The signature at the bottom of the final page had identified the author as Wrathion, the Black Prince. He was one of the last people Jaina would have expected to hear from, and his letter contained none of the flowery language or insincere flattery that he was so known for. It was businesslike, straightforward, and succinct to a fault. Jaina felt that, in this case, she could have benefited from a few extra words on the page. Anything to provide additional context for the note.

As much as she would like to dismiss this communication as false, a hoax perhaps, an attempt to draw her focus from some dangerous plan that the Black Prince was hatching, she could not ignore the possibility that he was being truthful. A rogue mage was not something to be taken likely, and the accusation that such a person could slip under the watchful eyes of the Kirin Tor’s high council unnoticed was very serious indeed. And then there was the matter of the diagrams he’d sent, the sigils within the circles faithfully reproduced. The note had asked if she was familiar with those symbols, and she could not fault him for the insensitivity of the question. If he did not recognize them himself, how could he know how terribly familiar with them she was?

Those were the sigils used for necromancy, and every mage who had been alive to witness the horror of the Scourge knew them by heart. Jaina shivered despite herself, the memory of the chill of Icecrown stealing the warmth from her as thoroughly as if she had teleported there. Chasing the man she had once loved across the continent and working to destroy any traces of his work was just one of an endless stream of terrible times in her life, and for some reason it affected her more now than in the past. With a wave of her hand, she stoked up the fire in the fireplace, drawing up a chair to sit close to the comforting flames.

More than anything, she wished that Kalecgos had not gone away that evening. She did her best magic with him there to support her, and she could use his help chasing away old memories. It was not the distant past that she needed to be focusing on, but a time much closer to the present, and a place she had never been. She adjusted the letter on the table, making sure that it was directly in front of her as she prepared to conjure up the memories embedded within the paper.

A simple spell in concept, relying on the impressions that every living thing made upon the world around it. With it, she could confirm the letter’s author. Any more information than that would not be a guarantee. Usually she wouldn’t bother trying, using up so much magic energy for such an uncertain reward was seldom worth it. This was a favor for King Varian. They knew now that Anduin was with Admiral Taylor at his garrison, and that Wrathion was there too. However, Anduin’s letter had been woefully brief, not providing anything more than the simple knowledge that he was alive. Jaina couldn’t know for sure that he was involved in the writing of this letter, but she knew Anduin well enough to suspect that he would want to have a hand in any kind of mischief Wrathion might be stirring up. Her hope, however slight, was that she could use this spell to gain some insight about his situation. Was he happy? Was he frightened? Was he missing home? Anything would be better than nothing.

She held out her hand above the paper, carefully pronounced the words of the spell, and waited. The first thing to appear was a ghostly pen, flying over the paper in the grasp of an invisible hand, tracing out the words of the letter with unmistakable urgency. Jaina pushed the apparition, applying a little more magic, and gradually the image began to spread. A clawed hand, an arm dressed in ornate fabric, and finally an arcane impression of the Black Prince sat at her coffee table, writing furiously.

_“Don’t tell me what to write,”_ the image of Wrathion said, pausing in his work and looking back over his shoulder with a frown. _“You’re distracting me.”_ He shook his head and leaned back over the paper.Jaina sat forward and watched with interest, pushing some more magic into the spell. Images flickered in the space behind Wrathion, swirling and blinking with sparks of arcane energy, until finally they solidified into a consistent shape.

_“I’m trying not to distract you, but you can’t say that.”_ Anduin’s voice echoed a little bit until the spell’s focus cleared, revealing the details of him. He leaned over Wrathion’s shoulder to tap a finger on the paper, indicating the sentence that Wrathion had just written down. _“You have to be polite, you can pick fights with the Kirin Tor once we’re back on Azeroth with all this behind us.”_

Jaina wondered what ‘all this’ meant. They certainly had moved since the last time anyone had reported seeing them. A rogue mage might be the least of Anduin’s troubles. Her honorary nephew’s propensity for getting himself into danger had caused her more than her fair share of stress over the years, his father wasn’t the only person who worried. She took a moment to examine the image of him, looking for any signs of injury or illness. He was leaning heavily on Wrathion’s chair, probably to support his leg. There were scratches on his face and hands, small ones that were a natural consequence of adventuring. Aside from that, he looked in good health.

Anduin folded his arms on the back of Wrathion’s chair and leaned down again, resting his head on his arms so that it sat very close to Wrathion’s. His hair was longer, Jaina noticed when he moved. It had grown out a bit while he was away, hanging down around his ears. Somehow it made him look older, more like his father and less like a child. _“You can’t say that either,”_ he was saying. _“I know you don’t mean it but Aunt Jaina will take it seriously.”_

_“I mean every word,”_ Wrathion said. His fangs were showing now, the magic projection causing them to glow unnaturally, and Jaina couldn’t help a jolt of fear although she knew this moment was long past. What if he hurt Anduin? But a second later he returned his attention to the page and scratched out the offending sentence, mumbling something that Jaina could not quite hear through the slight hum of the spell.

Jaina trusted Kalecgos with her life, but it would still give her pause if he ever bared his fangs at her. It was a threat, a promise of violence if the offending activity did not stop at once. Anduin hadn’t even moved. He didn’t seem at all concerned that his friend could turn on him at any moment. In fact, it looked like he was having a wonderful time continuing to nitpick the letter. The corners of his mouth twitched upward as he watched Wrathion correcting his sentence, and he visibly fought back the smile that threatened to emerge. It was a surreal sight, the Prince of Stormwind looking so fondly at someone so dangerous.

Waving a hand over the letter, Jaina ended the spell. She had seen enough, at least, to give Varian a better picture of what his son was up to. Anduin was far from home, surrounded by danger, and the biggest threat to him was the one she’d seen sitting at his side. Wrathion’s temper seemed to be on a hair trigger, he was unstable and powerful, and Anduin wasn’t exercising any caution at all. Jaina gathered up the letter and put it away in one of her many drawers of important documents. Then she began the familiar motions of casting a portal to Stormwind. It was time for another talk with Varian.

* * *

 

 “The garrison is just about here,” Varian repeated, stabbing at a rough map of Draenor with one finger. “I don’t have more detailed location information, Jaina. Don’t you think I would tell you if I did? I want my son out of there just as much as you do.” He sighed and sank down in his desk chair, rubbing at his temples. There was a party of adventurers headed out that way, escorted by a small squad of royal guards that he’d sent to meet Anduin. In normal circumstances, he wouldn’t hear anything from them until they reached the garrison and succeeded, or failed, at their mission. In this case, he was only slightly more informed. One of the party was a gnome, and he’d left Varian a device with which he could track the group’s movement across the continent. Varian preferred not to look at it. He found that seeing how slowly they were moving overland only made him worry more.

Last time he’d checked, they had only just reached the Spires of Arak, and were still close to the northern border. Admiral Taylor and his men had sailed around the coastline, and settled somewhere in the south. He had provided Varian with a detailed report of nearby landmarks and nearby dangers that other groups would have to navigate, but nothing as precise as Jaina was asking. “Once my men arrive at the garrison,” he told her, “I will have its exact coordinates for you. Until then, this is as good as it gets.”

Jaina swore and turned away from the map, pacing circles around the room with her hands behind her back. Varian began to suspect that she hadn’t told him the whole story of what was going on. She’d come to him asking where the garrison was, and offering the services of several Kirin Tor mages to open a portal there and remove Anduin at once. What she hadn’t told him was why she was suddenly so insistent on this course of action. He hadn’t complained, of course, because getting Anduin home was the most important thing, but her behavior struck him as suspicious.

“Is something going on?” he asked. Jaina stopped walking around and turned back to face him. She tapped her foot on the ground and stared off into the middle distance, but did not speak. Varian prodded her as gently as he could, struggling to speak calmly through the worry bubbling up inside of him. “It will be worse if you try to hide things from me, Jaina. Just tell me what’s happened. Is Anduin in trouble?”

She didn’t answer him for a moment more, frowning in the way that he knew meant she was picking her words very carefully. “There’s been a slight oversight,” she said eventually. “With the assignment of mages to Alliance commanders. The man we sent with Admiral Taylor’s crew needs to be questioned, and possibly removed from the field.”

That didn’t sound so bad. Varian relaxed slightly, letting his shoulders drop. It would be embarrassing for the Kirin Tor of course, he saw why Jaina had been so reluctant to speak up, but it wouldn’t be the first time that someone unqualified had been accidentally sent out on a mission. “We can handle that,” he assured her. “Files get mixed up. Who did you mean to send?”

Jaina bit her lip, and he saw her eyes darting nervously around the room. “That’s not quite the problem,” she said. “The mage we sent, Ephial, submitted a report to us on his area of study, it’s how we placed him on Taylor’s crew. Everyone studying in Dalaran has to fill them out, it’s a routine to make sure our city’s resources are being used effectively. I’ve just received some compelling evidence that his may have been falsified.” She shrugged helplessly. “One of the council is supposed to verify every research report we get. I don’t know how he got overlooked.”

Varian narrowed his eyes. “What kind of evidence are we talking about?” he asked. When magic was involved, ‘evidence’ could mean anything from a forged document to a smoking crater in the ground. The way Jaina was acting, he had the sinking feeling it was closer to the latter. “And how sure are you that it’s accurate?”

With a look around the room to make sure that the guards were too far away to overhear, Jaina produced a battered envelope from a pocket and set it down on top of the map. “I received this yesterday,” she told him. “It’s from Admiral Taylor’s garrison. I did some spellwork to verify it.”   
Carefully, so as not to tear the paper further, Varian slid the contents out of the envelope. He unfolded the letter and flicked through the pages, skimming the important details and ignoring the diagrams. He could never make heads or tails of those, if they were significant Jaina would tell him. He raised an eyebrow at the signature. “This is from Wrathion? He could be trying to scare you, sending you the worst kind of magic he can think of and pretending someone else was using it. I had men watching him for months in Pandaria, and from what I hear, causing a disturbance in the Kirin Tor high council is exactly the sort of thing he might do.”

Jaina nodded. “I haven’t ruled it out, but…” She picked up a sheet of paper, one of the ones with diagrams sketched on it. “These sigils are used in very dark magic, we saw a lot of them in use by the Scourge necromancers during the Northrend campaign. The Kirin Tor has put all that knowledge away in a carefully guarded portion of the city library, it’s hard to imagine someone as young as Wrathion being familiar with them.”

“Knowledge has a way of getting out,” Varian commented. “Especially when it’s dangerous.” He frowned at the page. They looked like a bunch of wiggly lines to him. It was hard to imagine them having the power to cause so much destruction. Then a thought hit him, and he took a step back. “Speaking of dangerous, is it safe for you to be holding that? He sent it through the mail, could he be trying to get at us?”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Jaina assured him, smiling like he’d asked something very funny. “These sigils need a lot of power to activate, they’d have to be drawn much larger and have a nearby conduit for magic energy. They won’t do anything sketched on a piece of paper, even if I tried my hardest to activate them. Not that I ever would,” she added, dropping the page back down onto the table. “I’ve seen enough reanimation spells to last a lifetime.”

That was a relief to hear. All the same, Varian pushed the page slightly farther away, just to be safe. “So he wasn’t trying to directly harm us, and you don’t think he was lying about not knowing the sigils. That doesn’t mean we trust that he’s telling the truth. There could be something else going on that he’s keeping from us.”

“There could be,” Jaina agreed. “But there’s enough potential truth to this letter to make me nervous. The spellwork I did on it also showed me that Anduin helped write it. At the very least, we know that he thought everything in here was all right to send.”

Varian nodded quietly. Anduin would not allow something dangerous to fall into Jaina’s hands, nor would he sit by and knowingly watch as someone attempted a deception. Whatever was going on at that garrison, his son believed that it was serious enough to reach out for help. Whether there was truly a threat or whether Anduin was being taken in by some scheme of Wrathion’s did not matter. Either way, he needed to be removed from there as quickly as possible. Varian ran through some quick mental calculations, thinking back to the last time he’d checked on his adventurers’ progress. They had made good time across the continent, but it would almost certainly take them at least another week to reach the southern tip of it.

“Once my men have found Anduin, you can open a portal to get him out,” he said. Then he frowned. “It’s too slow. I want him out of there now. He should leave if he can, and meet the group somewhere else. I don’t want him staying there and trying to fix things if it’s that dangerous. Is there no way we can get in touch with him sooner?”

“I can try a long-distance projection spell,” Jaina answered. “It doesn’t require quite the precision of a portal spell, and if someone really is trying to use those sigils at the garrison then there should be a flow of energy that I can trace to find it.” She crossed her arms, a habit of hers while thinking hard. “It probably won’t work from Azeroth, the power required would be dangerous. I’ll have to go to Draenor myself. I wonder if Khadgar has that Talador base in livable conditions yet, when I went out to check on his progress a few weeks ago there was moss growing everywhere.”

She was talking to herself more than Varian at this point, but he listened closely anyway. It sounded like she expected to be able to perform this spell, and that it would allow her to speak directly with Anduin. He wanted very badly to ask if he could be there, but the last time he had spoken to Anduin had been a disaster. There would be time, he told himself firmly. Lots of time later, once Anduin was safe, to try mending things. If he let himself think otherwise he might panic, and a panicked leader was the last thing the Alliance army needed.

“You’re welcome to anything you might need,” he said to Jaina, breaking her out of her planning. “Armed guards, supplies, anything at all if you can get Anduin somewhere safe. When can you leave?”

* * *

 

It was incredible how quickly things had fallen apart. Wrathion stared out the window at the empty garrison grounds, ears tuned in to every noise. The only movement outside was from the soldiers patrolling the wall, and the only thing he could hear inside was the faint noise of people stirring in their sleep. He took a small amount of comfort, dark though it was, in the knowledge that his current location was far from the door. If worst came to worst, he would have time to react before his enemies reached him.

He and Anduin were no longer being kept in the barracks, having made a break for it on the first day after Admiral Taylor had left. It was that or be thrown out. The careful respect that he’d been cultivating with the soldiers there had turned overnight into outright hostility, and it was immediately clear that his choices were to leave or be thrown out. The officers Taylor had left behind had either been in Ephial’s pocket from the start, or he’d bribed their cooperation. Wrathion would have preferred to leave the garrison entirely, bring the few soldiers who were still on his side and meet up with his agents somewhere in the mountains, but Anduin was insistent on staying.

So they’d grabbed their things and left the barracks, at a time when the soldiers were still preoccupied with reorganizing the garrison leadership, and made their way to the inn. The corruption within the garrison seemed confined to the military forces, with the majority of civilians retreating to the inn. These were the people Anduin was most concerned with. He refused to move to a safer, more strategically sound position unless the safety of all these people could be guaranteed. Wrathion had tried to reason with him, to explain that moving a small group out of the garrison was much easier than trying to hide a mass exodus, and that they could regroup and come back for anyone left behind, but Anduin hadn’t listened to a word of it. He wouldn’t leave without everyone and Wrathion would not leave without him, so now they were stuck.

Someone was coming up the stairs. He got up as soon as he heard the light footsteps, moving swiftly to the door. Were they trying to hide their approach because it was night and everyone else was sleeping, or had the inn been invaded? Backing into the shadows against the wall, he flexed his claws and listened carefully for anything that might reveal the identity of the newcomer.

Reassurance came in the form of a quiet knock and a whisper from the hallway. “Are you two awake in there?” Alice, the innkeeper, asked.

Wrathion relaxed. As far as humans went, he liked Alice. She was afraid of him, but didn’t try to hide it and didn’t let it stop her from treating him politely. He left his hiding spot and opened the door just a crack, wide enough so she could see him but not enough to seem aggressive. “I’m awake, but be quiet,” he said. “Prince Anduin is sleeping. Is something wrong?”

“Someone’s at the back door, asking for you,” Alice said. She held up the candle she was carrying with a faint, strained smile. “She brought a whole new box of these, along with some fresh food, so we let her into the kitchen. Please find out what she wants and get her out as soon as you can. You know it’s a risk for your people to come inside the wall.”

Downstairs, the inn was a little more active. The staff often stayed awake until well into the night getting things ready for the next day, and Wrathion knew they had an informal watch rotation. The cook was standing uncomfortably in the kitchen doorway, arms folded, keeping a very close eye on their visitor. Wrathion didn’t even have to get a close look to see it was Left, and his spirits lifted at once. He was unused to going so long without the presence of his guards, leaving them outside the garrison felt unnatural. The excitement was tempered by concern. The garrison was heavily guarded, even more so now that Ephial was in charge. He couldn’t imagine how Left had gotten in, or how she would get back out.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her, striding into the kitchen and pulling up a stool to sit with her by the fireplace. “Why not just speak with me through your gem? That’s what I gave it to you for.” He gave her a stern glare. “I’m not paying you to put your life in danger unless I specifically request it.”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty.” Left did not look sorry at all. She leaned back in her chair, pushing herself toward the warmth of the fire with a self-satisfied grin. “We all decided it would be better for someone to come in person, to check on you and to deliver some things.”

His Blacktalons certainly had been busy, Wrathion thought, taking stock of everything she’d brought with her. Even taking into account that Left was an orc and therefore capable of carrying more than a human, she had brought a staggering amount of supplies with her. Fresh meat, firewood, and various other things sat stacked up against the far wall, none of the inn’s staff having felt comfortable enough to unpack it while Left was still present. Wrathion narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t unthinkable that she could move this much in a short amount of time, but not past a heavily defended wall. “What aren’t you telling me, Left?”

Her smug smile morphed into a dangerous grin, a rare expression on Left. “One of our humans caught a rylak,” she told him. “The clans here on Draenor use them for transportation, so we figured we could train it. In case you wind up needing a quick escape, and all. We’ve been working with it and finally got so it’ll let someone on its back without trying to kill them.” She pointed at a fresh scratch on her arm. “Gave me that today, but then settled down. I flew all these things over the wall during a gap in the patrols. Couldn’t be easier.”

Wrathion started to speak several times, rushing to wrap his mind around the concept. Left was telling him all this as if she expected him to be proud of his agents for pulling off such a clever stunt, but all he could think was that this was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard of anyone doing. And he’d worked with adventurers. If she’d been seen by anyone she would have been shot down, and he would have lost one of his best fighters. Probably the rest of his organization too, because a search party would be sent out for the idiots who sent an armed orc into a military garrison on what was unmistakably meant to be a battle mount. Apparently, his agents needed constant supervision to function like reasonable people. Finally, he managed to vocalize the most pressing concern. “Left, are you telling me that there is a half-wild animal tied up in the garrison somewhere?”

Left scoffed. “Of course not. That would be dangerous. I sent it away as soon as I landed. We feed it, so it probably went back to camp on its own.” She shrugged. “If not, we can always catch another. I’ll just sneak back out when I’m done here.”

“I’m glad you have that much sense, at least.” Wrathion still felt off-balance. How had he managed to miss an entire rylak flying into the garrison? His room faced away from the wall, but he should still have heard something. Had he really been so focused on what the patrolling soldiers were doing that he’d completely neglected any other sounds?

“Give us some credit,” Left said. She looked supremely pleased to have thrown him off so much. “There’s one more thing. It might be nothing, but we’ve been seeing some lights in the forest for a few hours. Not like torches, just single lights. They blink on for a few minutes, then go out again. They’re moving this way, so we thought someone should tell you.”

Now that was something. She should have started with that, Wrathion thought irritably. Then again, if she had, he might have been so distracted by the rest of her surprises that he wouldn’t have given it the proper amount of attention. As their current adversary was a mage, strange lights in the forest was definitely something to be concerned about. “Can you send someone to investigate the locations where they appear?” he asked her.

“Already done.” She shrugged. “Nothing special in any of them. Rocks, trees, insect hives. Nothing that looks like it was put there.”

Very odd. Wrathion hadn’t seen any unusual activity around the garrison, nothing that would indicate Ephial was intentionally channeling anything, which would be his first guess for the source of mysterious, moving lights. Nor could he think of any dangerous spells that were so transient in nature. He liked to think he was fairly well-read in magical subjects, but he wasn’t coming up with any likely alternatives. “Maybe it’s a natural phenomenon,” he said eventually. “Keep an eye on it, and report to me if anything changes. Use the gems this time,” he added, giving her another glare.

“Yes Your Majesty,” Left said very seriously. He still had the impression that she was finding the situation funny, but there was nothing in her behavior that he could reprimand her for.

Scowling, he waved a hand to dismiss her. “Go back to camp, and make sure you get back safely.”

He watched her go, and waited by the door until long after she had vanished into the darkness, listening for any signs of trouble. When enough time had passed that he could be sure she had gotten out, he closed and locked the door and quietly went back upstairs. The night had taken an unexpectedly exhausting turn, and he wanted to sit down.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is narrative consistency? What are viewpoints? How does exposition work? Will we ever know?

Ending a long-distance self projection spell was always disorienting. As strange as it sounded, going from perceiving one place to two was less confusing than suddenly cutting one of those places off again. Jaina wobbled a little bit when her perception shifted back to normal, and sat heavily in the chair that Khadgar had provided. A moment ago, she would have sworn that it was a tree stump, although she had still been aware of the fact of it in the back of her mind.

“Still nothing,” she said, blinking rapidly to force her eyes to adapt to the light within the mage tower. Dim as it was, it was still brighter than the place her eyes had been convinced she was. “I’m still landing in the forest. I think I’m getting closer, though. One or two more tries and I should be able to see the garrison.”

If only Varian had been able to give her a more precise location. Following a ley line was harder than it sounded, even for experienced mages. It was also slow. She’d started while the sun the was up, but in between the time it took for each cast and the breaks she needed to take to recover her energy, hours had passed. Most of the mages around the tower had gone by now, wandering away one by one to sleep when it became apparent that she would not be locating Prince Anduin any time soon. She had hoped that the Zangarra base would have established magical communication with the garrison, that would make projecting there as simple as walking down the street, but they had yet to hear anything from that direction. More evidence that something was wrong.

“Are you sure you have the energy for that?” Khadgar appeared at her shoulder, carrying a pitcher of water. “I admire your tenacity, but it might be better to rest now and try again in the morning.”

Jaina took the glass he was offering her gratefully and downed the water so fast that she nearly choked. One of the dangers of extended spellwork was dehydration, arcane power took a lot out of a person. “Time is of the essence, Khadgar,” she reminded him. “Varian wants his son out of there as soon as possible, and he’s not the only one. That boy is family to me. I can manage a few more tries for family. Besides,” she added, looking around the tower with distaste. “I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to. How can you stand it?” Despite Khadgar’s best efforts, there was mold growing in every corner and a number of small sporebats flew around the camp constantly.

“I’ll admit it’s a little damp,” Khadgar said. “I’ve gotten used to it, though. It helps if you cultivate a healthy interest in the local ecosystem. The conditions here are so similar to what we found in some areas of the Outland, but so different at the same time. It’s fascinating.” He gave her a smile that on anyone else would be completely unconvincing.

At times Khadgar’s enthusiasm was welcome, such as when the council fell to squabbling and needed a reminder of what they were really working for. Other times, it could be grating. Jaina saw nothing interesting about fungal invasions, and she had more important things to worry about than the ecosystem. “Stand back,” she told him, standing back up and setting her empty glass aside. “I’m going to try again.”

She had to admit that Draenor was an excellent place to perform magic. The energies here had a different feel to them than those on Azeroth. Not more powerful, but less chaotic. The ley lines were entrenched deeply under the ground, and appeared to have remained largely undisturbed. Where the lines of power on Azeroth branched all over the landscape and gave up their energy enthusiastically to nearby magi, the energy on Draenor was more centered. It ran slowly, like a system of deep, calm rivers. The closer one was to a line, the more spellcasting was affected. Khadgar’s tower was built almost directly on top of one, which ran from somewhere in the jungles of Tanaan to Auchindoun in Talador. She was certain that Admiral Taylor must have built his garrison very near another one, or else the kind of magic Wrathion’s letter had indicated would not be possible.

The problem was that there were several ley lines running through the Spires, and it was difficult for her to sense the precise locations of their routes from afar. As checking them all methodically would take too long, her first thought had been to look at the places were two or more lines crossed paths. Usually, places like that contained exceptional amounts of magical energies, and were centers of activity for local cultures. Not so in the Spires of Arak. Every crossroad she had checked had been empty of any signs of life. It was eerie, and spooked her in a way that few things ever managed to do lately. Every instinct she possessed told her that those sites should be packed with activity, but yet they seemed dead. It was like walking through a ghost town.

Reports from elsewhere on Draenor indicated that there had been a dramatic upheaval in the Arakkoan civilization native to the mountains. There was a small encampment of refugees some distance to the south, she knew, who had been peaceful enough with war parties and adventuring groups alike. Perhaps that was the reason for the emptiness, although she hated to think what could be so awful that it would drive away every sign of life.

With that particular route of investigation closed, she had reluctantly turned to examining the ley lines individually, sending magic feelers out like tendrils along each line from the crossings. Perhaps there was some difference in the energies on each one, something about one in particular that might indicate the presence of dark magic. It was a faraway hope. Ley lines were difficult to noticeably alter, it would normally take many magi working in conjunction to create a perceptible difference in the flow of one. She hadn’t expected to find anything at all, so when one line was far more active than the others, it came as a shock.

That line, Khadgar had told her, ran through Shadowmoon Valley. He frowned as he pointed it out on his map. The orc clan that called the valley home was known for producing warlocks, so it was not entirely unexpected that their ley line would be showing signs of overuse. All the same, Jaina had a gut feeling that she could not ignore, and so the next phase of her search had been to check various points along that line, following it down toward the general area of the garrison and looking around each time she projected herself onto it for any signs of habitation. An Alliance garrison would be well-camouflaged within the dark wood of the forest, but she knew she could find it if she just got close enough.

When her next attempt yielded more of the same, she returned to herself out of breath and ready to collapse. Khadgar was nowhere to be seen, she must have been channeling the spell longer than she’d thought. He’d left her another glass of water and a plate with a mana cake on the desk, a clear sign indicating that she was alone for the night. The wise thing to do would be to stop, go and sleep and jump back into it in the morning.

“One more try,” she told herself, and braced for another cast.

* * *

 

 This time, she was interrupted on her way down the ley line. Something wound its way around her, brushing against her consciousness like a whisper, hurrying along toward a destination and dragging her with it. It was the kind of thing that they warned young mages about during their training, the reason you were always supposed to have someone with you when you cast a spell. Even the most experienced mage could get caught up in a pocket of strange energy, or hit with a long-distance attack, or run afoul of the arcane creatures that called the ley lines home. Jaina felt panic welling up, and forced herself to ignore it. She wasn’t hurt, whatever she was feeling hadn’t harmed her. She was traveling fast, and although she was caught in the flow of energy, she didn’t appear to be permanently stuck. Not having control of where she was going was terrifying, but anything powerful enough to sweep her up like this was worth investigating.

Letting it move her along, Jaina turned her attention to probing this new force to see what she could find out about it. It was a careful process, if the origin of this wave was an intelligent being then she wanted to avoid alerting it to her presence, and the more she examined it the more certain she became that this was the case. There was an aura of purpose around the wave of magic. She was almost sure that it had been sent from a specific place, and that it had a fixed destination. Layers of magic wrapped around a core, shielding it from the force of the ley line and ensuring that whatever was inside would reach the destination safely. It was not dissimilar to the way she shielded her consciousness for these trips down the ley line, and the prospect that she might be catching a ride with another traveler shook her slightly.

She was speeding up, she noticed with alarm. It was hard to discern distance and time while projecting this way, but the wave of energy she was riding was definitely moving faster. There was a sense of finality to it, like it was a gryphon that had caught sight of its aerie. Their destination was near, and it occurred to her that she might not want to go there. It was time to jump off, then, while she still could. She could investigate from a distance. Tugging experimentally on the strands of magic that had her caught, she found to her relief that they came loose easily. It would be bumpy, but she could step out of the ley line at any time and manifest properly to get a look around.

On the count of five, she decided. If she was the one in control she would want to slow down first, stopping abruptly was a strain on the spell, but she had no time to waste disengaging and stopping normally. It was time to leave, and she had to hope that she had put enough power into the spell to keep it from breaking. She counted down, braced herself, and ripped herself free of the ley line in one burst of magic, willing herself to a stop in the landscape around.

If she had been present in her corporeal form, all that momentum would have sent her flying. Instead, she stopped instantly, and it was her mind that kept going. She expected there to still be movement, and the fact that there wasn’t made her dizzy. Her projection flickered, and Jaina had to reinforce it with the last drops of her magic to keep the spell from snapping. There would be no more tries tonight, if she wasn’t near the garrison she would need to stop and rest.

Off to one side, she could make out the shadow of a wall, with the straight lines and precise angles of new construction. Guard towers sat atop it at intervals, and she felt like crying in relief. This must be it, she recognized the shape of the towers from the construction plans she’d seen back in Stormwind. She moved toward it, not quite walking and not quite flying, but stopped quickly. Something seemed off, but it took her moment to realize what it was. None of the guard towers appeared occupied. Normally, night watchers would be patrolling the top of the wall, shining their lanterns out to illuminate the ground below. Tonight, all was dark. If there was anybody guarding the garrison, they were doing so while completely shrouded in darkness.

A consequence of the surrounding darkness was that she stood out in a way she could not conceal. Arcane projections had an innate glow, if not for the relative cover of the trees she was sure she would be visible for miles. She stood for a moment, uncertain what the best course of action would be. Should she move farther back into the trees to avoid being seen? Try to enter the garrison and find Anduin? She didn’t know where he was staying, and she suddenly had the feeling that she might not be welcome here. It was ridiculous to feel that way, Admiral Taylor was a personal friend, and yet…

The decision was made for her, as the sound of a magic circle activating reached her ears. She turned, throwing her arms up instinctively to protect herself even though her body was miles and miles away. Nothing was there, the sound had been farther away than she’d thought. The glow of the spell was dimly visible through the trees, which meant that whoever was casting it would see her if they broke their focus and looked her way. She could not yet see them, however. Reassuring herself that there was nothing in this part of the world that could harm her, the worst that could happen would be the spell breaking, she moved forward to get a better look.

A figure, shadowed in the light from his own spell, stood in front of a newly etched circle with his head bowed. Jaina caught a glimpse of his face when the light flickered onto it, and the sight of him made disappointment settle in her stomach like a dull weight. She hadn’t wanted to believe that any of the Kirin Tor’s chosen ambassadors could betray them, but there was the mage Ephial, dressed in dark robes and whispering frantically to the circle. He was communicating with someone, she realized. That was what the surge of power she’d felt had been for, someone far away had sent some of their own magic to forge a link between this spot and wherever they were, and they were using that link to speak with Ephial. Most likely, they were giving him instructions. His hunched over pose and nervous fidgeting did not speak to her of someone who was in control of whatever arrangement had been formed.

Her lip curled involuntarily in disgust. It was men like this who gave magic users a bad name. The first and most important lesson of magecraft was never to accept bribes or instructions from a more powerful being as a shortcut, it was drilled into the minds of every student that entered the city of Dalaran from the moment they stepped off their flying mounts. The elementals and arcane constructs bound to a mage’s will were always the less powerful beings in that transaction, and anybody promising an easy increase in ability was a liar. The only way to grow as a mage and gain in power was through hard work and intense study. Those were the principles Dalaran was founded on, studying magic and learning to control it. If Ephial was allowing himself to be controlled by an unseen force, then he was going against everything the Kirin Tor stood for. What a waste of time.

She didn’t bother trying to hide herself as she moved ever closer. Ephial wasn’t paying even the slightest amount of attention to the world around him, too focused on his conversation. Jaina had the basic idea of what was being discussed, corrupt mages were all the same, but she owed it to everyone to get the details right.

“No, not yet,” Ephial was saying when she got close enough to pick out his words. “If I execute the ritual now, it won’t go any good, I’ve been telling you.” Desperation strained his voice, making him sound very different from the confident young mage who had asked to be considered for the invasion of Draenor.

Whoever he was speaking with did not seem to agree with this assessment. The magic circle cracked with energy. Then a voice replied, seeming to emanate from the ground the circle was drawn on. “You told me that the garrison was undefended,” it growled. “What better time could there be to destroy it?” Jaina did not waste her efforts trying to identify the voice. If the speaker had not projected an image of themselves, then it was clear that they did not want to be known. They would be taking efforts to conceal themselves, as well as to make a terrifying impression on a stupid, gullible mage. She could be certain that this was not what they truly sounded like.

“It is undefended, that’s the problem!” Ephial’s voice broke with frustration, and Jaina took a small amount of pleasure in witnessing his discomfort. “The leader of the men has gone off on some ridiculous quest. I could take this opportunity to strike and destroy the garrison, but then I would miss my shot at eliminating him. He is the true threat, the men are worthless without him but if I destroy them in his absence he will still oppose us.”

“Your thinking is too simple,” the voice answered, a sharp edge to it that made Ephial cringe. “If you have so much fear of one enemy, then you will be of little use in times ahead.”

I’m not afraid of him,” Ephial retorted scornfully. Then, seeming to realize that he’d crossed a line, he shrank back into his fearful, subservient state. “I don’t mean to argue, master. Of course, I will do whatever you order. It’s only that it will be more efficient to get rid of all the loose ends at once. Striking at the garrison first and then hunting down the Admiral would be a waste of energy.”

“Waiting leaves you vulnerable,” the voice said. “You reported that you face resistance from some who you have not managed to draw in. Every day you delay, you increase the risk that they will attack you. Having to kill them prematurely would be an unacceptable loss of resources. I trust that this will not happen.” The warning was clear, and Jaina shivered even though it was not directed at her.

Ephial laughed, and there was a hint of nervousness in it, “They’re no threat,” he said. “Just a bunch of cowards holed up in the inn. They’re too afraid to do anything to me. When the time comes, they won’t even realize what hit them.”

“Very well then,” the voice said. “Continue as you wish. I will hold you personally responsible if anything goes awry.”

Jaina decided she’d heard enough, and backed away carefully. The projection spell had its limits, and she wasn’t sure if she could make it last long enough to get inside the garrison. She’d been so close this time, if only she had chosen a slightly different stopping point she might have been able to find Anduin. But what she had learned was good enough. Anduin would be relatively safe, at least until Ephial managed to complete this ritual he was speaking of. She had time, she could come back in a few hours once her energy was restored.

* * *

 

There was a light shining in his face. Wrathion’s first instinct was to turn over and bury his face in the blanket, lifting one wing to block out the light and go back to sleep. His night had not been restful, concern that Left’s antics would cause trouble for him keeping awake well past the limits of his usual insomnia. He had finally passed out while sitting on the foot of Anduin’s bed, watchfulness slowly slipping away in the face of his exhaustion. It had been days since he’d slept properly, he didn’t understand how Anduin could be so willing to let his guard down when the atmosphere around the garrison was so tense.

Even with his eyes covered, the disturbances continued. There was a soft noise coming from somewhere, a slight hum, so quiet that he could almost convince himself he was imagining it. Wrathion squeezed his eyes closed more tightly and tried to ignore it. He couldn’t possibly have been resting for longer than a few hours, it wasn’t time to get up yet. His head hurt and his eyes stung from being pulled so suddenly out of sleep, but he couldn’t will himself back into unconsciousness no matter how much he tried, the feeling that he was missing something kept intruding on his efforts.

The light moved, a shadow passing over the slight gap in between his wing and the blanket, and he stiffened in surprise. He had thought it was the dawn light breaking through the window, it had the same muted glow. But the morning sun was not usually in the habit of moving quickly. At the same moment, someone whispered something near the head of the bed, the sound shocking him into full consciousness as effectively as a bucket of water to the face.

He raised his head to look and saw a glowing figure, almost like a ghost, leaning over Anduin. Before he could fully take in the sight he was in the air, two quick flaps of his wings propelling him over the blankets to land, wings outstretched and teeth bared, in front of Anduin’s face. He growled as loudly as he could manage, positioning himself in between the figure and Anduin, spitting flame as a warning. That was the glow of magic, if this intruder was going to enchant Anduin they would have to contend with him first.

“Wrathion, what?” Anduin lifted his head with an annoyed whine. “Don’t just jump on me like that, it’s the middle of the night, what are you doing?” He grabbed Wrathion at the base of one wing and pulled, attempting to force him down off his feet. “Go back to sleep, there’s nothing- oh.” He’d caught sight of the intruder over Wrathion’s wing. There was a short pause, while he rubbed his eyes and sat up, and then to Wrathion’s surprise he broke into a relived, happy laugh. “Aunt Jaina! See Wrathion, I told you she’d come to help!”

Jaina? Wrathion looked back at her, squinting his eyes at the glow that surrounded her form. He had only seen Lady Proudmoore in person once, from a distance, sitting with Anduin at Hellscream’s trial, but now that he knew who she was he wondered how he hadn’t realized it at once. There was no mistaking those robes, and her face should have been immediately recognizable to anyone who took an interest in Azerothian politics.

“Indeed you did,” he replied, lowering his wings and attempting to calm his still-racing heartbeat. Anduin looked infuriatingly calm, smiling up at Jaina as if having an arcane image of one of the world’s most powerful mages materialize in his bedroom in the early hours of the morning was a perfectly normal occurrence. “Lady Proudmoore, I don’t believe we’ve met. I was expecting a more… traditional response to my message. You _are_ here about that, aren’t you?”

He’d failed to keep all of the suspicion out of his voice. Anduin gave him a stern look, but didn’t say anything. Jaina was watching him with open concern. Despite his size, he thought proudly, he’d obviously he’d shaken her badly with his display. He debated taking on his human form, but decided against it. He didn’t want her to feel _too_ comfortable. She had caught him off guard by intruding, it was only fair to return the favor. He conceded to Anduin’s silent judgment by sitting, smoothing out the blanket under him and bowing his head slightly to Jaina.

“Yes, partially.” Jaina recovered her bearings quickly, acknowledging him with a nod in return. Then she turned to Anduin, ignoring Wrathion while she continued. “I did some investigation into the ley lines around this area, and I have reason to believe that there’s more going on than a simple case of a single mage gone rogue. There’s a significant amount of power being channeled to this location, and I overheard Ephial several hours ago speaking to an unknown master. You need to get out now, you’re in danger as long as you stay there.”

Wrathion couldn’t help lashing his tail against Anduin’s leg in his annoyance at being ignored, but he didn’t have it in himself to be upset about what she was saying. He had been telling Anduin that they needed to leave since Admiral Taylor’s departure. Maybe Jaina, who had known Anduin since he was a small child, could find some way to convince him where Wrathion had just managed to run up against his stubborn attitude.

“If we’re in danger, so is everyone else.” Anduin shook his head. “I told Wrathion already, there are people here who don’t have anything to do with Ephial, and I’m not leaving without them. If we leave, then we won’t be able to help keep everyone safe.”

“What are you planning to do?” Jaina asked him. “Do you even know what you’re going to be fighting against? Because I don’t know. If it was just one rogue mage, I would let you handle it. I know you’ve grown a lot, and I know you have more control over the Light than you like to let on. When I say that I don’t want you to try this on your own, I’m not talking down to you. If you were one of my mages, I would be telling you the same thing.”

“I’m not one of your mages,” Anduin argued. “If you want me to get out of here, help me evacuate everyone else. We can’t just walk out the gate, but can’t you open a portal in the basement or something?”

Jaina shook her head. “Too risky. Portals can be traced, and the power it takes to open one would alert any magic user in the area. You’ll have to get farther away before I can do anything like that.”

Anduin folded his arms. “I’m not going,” he said flatly, looking her in the eye for emphasis. “It’s not fair to expect me to leave people in danger. You just want to get me away because I’m the prince, but that shouldn’t mean I’m the only one who gets rescued.”

A tense staredown ensued. Jaina was visibly grinding her teeth together, trying to work out something to say that wouldn’t spark a continuation of the argument. Wrathion disguised a laugh as a cough. It was so nice to see Anduin butting head with someone else for a change. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said smoothly when both of them turned their glares on him. “Anduin, I think you should listen to Lady Proudmoore. Surely you don’t think that she is asking you to leave the entire garrison to die?” He eyed Jaina as he said that, hoping very much that she wasn’t doing just that.

“Your father sent a group of adventurers to explore the Spires,” Jaina told Anduin, not acknowledging Wrathion’s silent question in any way. “Once they get here, they will be more than capable of battling any threat. In the meantime, I do not believe there is an immediate danger. Ephial is preparing for a ritual of some kind, those take time. I know it sounds counterintuitive, but you’ll be able to do much more to help if you leave. Your father will want to know what’s been happening there, it will help us narrow down who might be pulling the strings.”

At the mention of Varian, Anduin broke his eye contact with Jaina in favor of looking at a spot in the middle of the floor. His jaw worked, but he did not speak. Wrathion waited, wanting to see what he would do, but eventually the silence became too uncomfortable for him to stand. He took on his human form in a rush a smoke and put an arm around Anduin, leaning into him and in so doing forcing himself into Jaina’s line of sight. “Would you give us some time to consider your strategy?” he asked as politely as possible, smiling sweetly at her. He needed to convey that in this, if nothing else, he was on her side. “A few hours, perhaps?”

His efforts to appear friendly and charming failed. In fact, they only seemed to annoy her further. She frowned at him, eyes moving from him to Anduin and back again. “All right,” she said, forcing the words out with some effort. “A few hours. Don’t do anything reckless while I’m gone.”

She faded out gradually, until finally she was gone. Wrathion sighed and let go of Anduin, rubbing at his eyes with his hands. So much for sleep.

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here have this chapter that I made especially for you guys, thank you for all your kind words and support, brb setting myself on fire. 
> 
> I wrote a lot of this on my phone so if anything's weird that's why. Give me a poke and I'll fix it.

Neither of them spoke for a long time after Jaina left. Wrathion knew that there was more to Anduin’s silence than stubbornness, it would be unlike him to refuse a conversation about differing opinions unless something else was bothering him. He thought he knew what was at the root of Anduin's trouble this time, but wanted to give him the chance to speak up for himself. Anduin did not, choosing instead to continue starting mutely at a corner of the floor. He held an edge of the blanket in his hands, unraveling it steadily without any apparent awareness of what he was doing.

Wrathion cleared his throat to distract him. “You know that I enjoy your company whether or not you feel compelled to speak,” he started, “but I think that if Lady Proudmoore returns to find us still at an impasse, the consequences will be unpleasant.”

Anduin didn't answer but Wrathion thought he caught a hint of a smile. Feeling that it was safe to continue, he decided to push Anduin a little more. “You're worried about seeing your father again if we go along with her plan, aren't you? That's what's wrong?”

“He's going to kill me,” Anduin said in a dull voice. “And there's no way he'll let me do anything to help, no matter what Jaina says. He'll pack me off back to Stormwind and that'll be the end of it.”

“I can come and break you out again, if it comes to that.” Wrathion didn't think that was the right thing to say, but anything else would sound painfully insincere no matter how much he meant it.

“Not even you could pull that off twice.” Anduin looked for a moment like he might laugh, but the next second his face twisted and he looked quickly away, curling both hands into the blanket and gripping it tightly.

There was a slight catch in Anduin's breath, Wrathion heard him fighting to steady it and watched him nervously. He didn't know what he would do if Anduin started crying, and desperately wished that he would not have to find out. Providing comfort was not his strong suit, it was Anduin's. Usually he preferred to let others sort themselves out in times of stress, but this was not a stranger or one of his agents, it was Anduin. The thought of him continuing to be upset was distressing and Wrathion wanted very badly to make it stop.

He thought back on how Anduin normally handled this sort of thing, trying to determine the best course of action. Should he say something reassuring? What could he say, when everything was so uncertain? Past experience told him that Anduin felt reassured when they could share space, just sit together quietly or talk about unimportant things. That didn’t seem to be the case here. Anduin was leaning away from him, and there was nothing he could talk about that wouldn’t seem like a transparent effort to spare Anduin’s feelings.

“I know you’re right,” said Anduin, just as Wrathion was feeling like he might scream if the silence went on any longer. “You and Aunt Jaina. I know it would be stupid to stay, but I don’t want to just walk away from danger when I know I would be leaving people behind.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Wrathion said, glad for the return to the most pressing problem. Anduin’s family problems were frustrating to think about, and whenever he tried it seemed that there were obstacles to his understanding everywhere he looked. Planning an escape was much more straightforward, and it was something he had real experience in. “My agents can shelter some people, although obviously not too many or they risk being exposed. Left flew into the garrison last night on a captured rylak, it’s possible they could get a few people out the same way.”

Even as he suggested it, he knew that it wouldn’t be a good solution for anyone. The Blacktalons were suffering from a loss of numbers, but the answer to that was not to drop untrained people into their midst. They would be more likely to see the additions as a burden than anything else, and they wouldn’t be able to shelter nearly enough people to make Anduin happy. Five would be pushing it, and more than ten would be completely impossible.

Anduin, of course, was well aware of the flaws. He was much too clever not to be, and when he answered the skepticism was clear in his voice. “Maybe some of the soldiers would be all right with that, but I can’t imagine the inn staff being comfortable leaving their new home to hide out in the woods with a bunch of rogues.”

Wrathion nodded in acknowledgment of the point. “Of course, only a few people would be able to go, and it should be limited to those who want to. It’s not perfect, but I thought it might be better than nothing.” He, too, was vaguely uncomfortable with the thought that if they left he would no longer be able to directly monitor Ephial, or stop him if he did anything major.

“It is,” Anduin admitted. “Thank you for offering.” He fell quiet again, and Wrathion could hear him grinding his teeth. “I hate this,” he said a minute later.

“Such strong language,” Wrathion said. He’d intended it to come out as gentle teasing, but he couldn’t summon any humor. “I don’t like it either,” he sighed, abandoning the attempt to lighten the mood. “I wish I could just set Ephial on fire and be done with it.” He had half a mind to do it anyway, but it wouldn’t be worth it in the long run. It would just draw the attention of Ephial’s unknown master, and then there would be even worse trouble.

“It would be nice if it were that simple,” Anduin agreed, beginning to fidget with the blanket again. “We could solve everything right now, and then leave before Jaina comes back. And then I wouldn’t have to fight with my father again, or go back home and sit around in the castle doing nothing while people are out risking their lives.” He gave Wrathion an odd, sidelong glance. “I could stay with you.”

“Oh.” Wrathion swallowed, suddenly feeling like there was something caught in his throat. Anduin considered him a _priority_ , on par with protecting his people and keeping his freedom. Those were the two most important things in Anduin's life, Wrathion knew that, and being elevated to the same significance was a lot to take in. He coughed, trying in vain to get rid of the sensation. “I’d like that very much, of course.”

Anduin’s ears had turned pink, he noticed, and wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. Embarrassing Anduin had been an activity he enjoyed in the past, a game to play when he was bored, trying to coax a reaction out of Anduin out of argument, or just wanted to see him laugh. It felt like something else this time. There was an air of seriousness that couldn’t be ignored, compounded by the tight feeling in his throat and the nervous tingles he couldn’t brush off. Wrathion found that he was still pleased to have affected Anduin, but he was feeling so off balance that he couldn’t properly enjoy it.

“All right,” Anduin said, looking away from him again. “I’ll go along with this plan. I still don’t like it, but I know I can’t say no to both you and Aunt Jaina. Just promise you’ll help me deal with my father, please. I don’t want to get separated.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” Wrathion answered honestly. His first thought was that he should refuse. Dealing with Varian Wrynn could mean any number of things, and he didn’t think he should make a promise if he didn’t know the details. On the other hand, he didn’t want Anduin to be taken away either. It was an entirely selfish impulse, logically he knew that Varian Wrynn and the kingdom of Stormwind had a greater claim on Anduin’s time than he did, but at that moment he felt that he would do almost anything to keep Anduin with him. “Whatever you need, I’ll do my best.”

“Just keep being you.” Anduin took his hand and carefully interlocked their fingers. He looked uncertain, like he thought Wrathion might push him away. “That’s all I need right now.” He squeezed Wrathion’s hand, took a breath, leaned in and kissed him.

* * *

 

 Anduin hadn't been intending to do anything. Even as he was gathering his courage and closing the space between them, a large part of him was screaming in panic. He'd been hanging onto the blanket specifically so he wouldn't reach for Wrathion, but his resolve had crumbled when he thought about being sent home, cooped up again and forbidden to do so much as speak to Wrathion again. He didn't know how to stop that happening, and he didn't know if his father would listen to any of his wishes, so he had a vague notion that he wouldn't have the chance again.

The inherent scared rush of the kiss meant that it lasted only a second, not long enough for Wrathion to react. He looked stunned when Anduin pulled back, blood rushing in his ears so loudly that he thought he might pass out. “I'm sorry,” Anduin gasped out, hurriedly sitting back to put some distance between them. “I didn't mean to do that, I… please don't be upset.”

Wrathion reoriented himself slowly, blinking and shaking his head in small motions. His eyes flicked toward Anduin, belatedly taking in his words. “Why should I be?” he asked, sounding dazed. “That was nice. You should have told me you wanted to do that earlier.” He smiled nervously, and in the early morning light looked younger than Anduin had ever seen him look.

“I didn’t know earlier,” Anduin replied. “I just noticed recently, about having, um, feelings about you.” Getting the words out was unfairly difficult given the circumstances, and he was still stuck on the notion that Wrathion should be having more of a reaction than he was. It was good that he wasn’t upset or angry, but Anduin had always imagined that his first kiss would be a little more reciprocal. Wrathion was just sitting there, nodding like he was learning a mildly interesting trivia fact. “Why are you so calm? Do you not feel the same way?”

“It was nice,” Wrathion repeated. “I can’t say if I feel the same way as you or not, because I don’t know how you feel. This is a subject that I have very little frame of reference for, as I’m sure you can imagine. I care about you very much, and I want you with me. Is that what you are asking?”

“Something like that.” If he were talking to anyone else, Anduin thought, he would probably be disappointed in that answer. It was short and vague, and Wrathion’s admittance that he didn’t understand Anduin’s feelings should have been frustrating, but he had to allow for Wrathion’s personality. This, after all, was the dragon who had been genuinely startled when Anduin had asked him not so long ago if they were friends.

“So is that going to be a regular thing?” Wrathion asked. “You kissing me? Because if it is, then I would like a little more warning next time.” He reached over and picked Anduin’s hand back up. “It would make it easier to react properly.”

Next time. Anduin shivered, replaying those words over and over again in his head. Wrathion wanted a next time. He knew he should say no, explain that it had been a momentary lapse in control and that a real relationship wasn’t something that they could have, that they had already crossed a line by leaving Azeroth together. Feeling Wrathion’s hand in his made those thoughts seem like flimsy excuses. If they were already in trouble, how much worse could it get? He moved closer on the mattress until their legs were touching. Wrathion leaned toward him in response, his breath brushing lightly over Anduin’s face.

“Wrathion,” he whispered, struggling to keep his eyes focused at such close range. “I’m going to kiss you again.”

They stayed there for a long time, trading kisses and gentle touches, relearning their way around each other. Anduin didn’t realize how much time had passed until the sun broke over the tops of the trees, shining in through the window and onto his face. He gave Wrathion one last quick kiss and then sat back, clearing his throat and taking deep breaths to help himself settle down.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling when he saw Wrathion’s disgruntled frown. “It’s morning. Aunt Jaina will probably be back soon, so we’d better stop.”

Wrathion turned around to shoot an annoyed look at the window. “It's _barely_ morning,” he complained. When Anduin just shrugged and kept smiling, he sighed and stood up. “I suppose I am hungry,” he said, brushing at his clothes to make sure nothing was out of place. “I'll go see if there's a chance of getting breakfast yet. You wait here.”

As if there was anywhere else he might go, Anduin thought. He nodded and watched Wrathion turn to go. It was nice to be able to look at him so intently without trying to hide it, he was always so graceful, even after a night so full of interruptions. Turning back at the door, he gave Anduin a quick smile before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door quietly behind him.

Anduin lay back down on the bed and let out a long, shaky breath. His whole body was warm, and a tingling feeling kept going through him in waves whenever he thought of Wrathion. It was almost frightening in its intensity, but felt so nice that he let his eyes fall closed and replayed the scene in his head, focusing on the smallest details of how Wrathion had looked so close to him, how it had felt to hold his hands and touch his face, the taste and smell of him. All those things were etched into his memory, and even though he was exhausted from waking up so early he felt so excited that he might never sleep again.

He was making a mistake, he knew that as surely as he knew his own name. The high wore off slowly, and with its departure all the worries returned. When Jaina returned he would need to act like nothing had happened, a feat that seemed completely impossible. And then there was the matter of his father, who he would be seeing sooner rather than later and who he was sure already wanted to fight Wrathion. There would need to be either explanations or lies, and he didn't think that either would turn out well. He sighed and turned onto his side, facing the door but not really seeing it. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to start anything with Wrathion, but now that he knew what it felt like he couldn't give it up.

Jaina’s reappearance didn't startle him, but it was like waking up from a very vivid dream. He'd known that she would be back but the reality of the situation had managed to escape him. She shimmered into view with a buzz of magic, and everything came back to him at once. He sat up to greet her. “Welcome back.”

The look of concentration on Jaina’s face vanished, replaced with a relieved smile. “Good,” she said. “You’re still here. I was worried I would come back to an empty room, with you off to get stranded in the midst of some other emergency somewhere else.”

“I thought about it,” Anduin admitted. “But I don’t know where we would go, and I can’t run away forever.” His stomach clenched with nerves, but he kept going. “Did you talk to my father?”

Jaina nodded. “Briefly, yes. I told him that I found you, and that I was trying to convince you to meet with him.” She frowned and narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know exactly what the two of you said to each other and I know it isn’t my business, but he is convinced that you’ll refuse. He thinks you ran away because he’s broken your trust too many times and you’re cutting ties.”

“He's not angry?” Anduin couldn't believe it. As much as he had been dreading another fight, he decided he would prefer it to hearing that his father had given up on him.

“I didn't say that.” Jaina raised both eyebrows at him. “He is furious. He's been sending his best men after you since the first expeditions through the portal, and he's about ready to abandon the war effort and go hunting for you himself. Don't think you're getting off easy just because he thinks you don't want to come home.”

Anduin opened his mouth to tell her that he _didn't_ want to go home, he wanted to stay and help, but he was cut off by Wrathion's abrupt return from downstairs. He was fully awake and in a very cheerful mood, which Anduin couldn't help taking a little pride in. “I brought you breakfast!” he announced, pushing the door open with his shoulder as his hands were full. “I didn't know what you wanted so there's some fruit, a couple eggs, bread, and Alice managed to get her hands on some bacon, which I will take if you don't want- good morning, Lady Proudmoore.”

Jaina looked at him with open surprise, and it occurred to Anduin that she must not have ever seen Wrathion act his age before. He tended to put on airs when he spoke to people, and did his best to make himself appear clever, in control, and vaguely threatening. He put the mask back up as soon as he noticed Jaina in the room, but the fact remained that she had seen him unguarded. She nodded slowly at him, looking back and forth between him and Anduin. “Good morning,” she said. “I trust that the two of you managed to make a decision?”

She was speaking to Anduin, but he let Wrathion answer. He was fine not taking the lead on this. Wrathion nodded. “Pooling our resources on this problem seems to be the best choice,” he said. “We’ll do it.”

* * *

 

 Jaina checked over her calculations in her head for the fourth time, watching the clock tick away. Ten minutes until the hour, when she would activate the portal that would hopefully bring Anduin to the mage tower. She had no idea how he intended to travel ten miles from the garrison in the middle of the night, but he had promised that he would be able to get to the prearranged location on time. There were times when asking for details would only serve to throw off her concentration. The chosen spot for the portal was well hidden, in a cluster of trees near one of the spots she’d checked on her search along the ley line. She tapped into it again, making sure that the magic was still behaving. Portal casting was routine, but there was always a chance of reaching the wrong place.

The clock chimed. Time to start. She held out her hands and spoke the words of the spell, drawing energy up through the ground and linking it to the portal beacon she had set up in the middle of the floor. Once it was established, the beacon would hold the portal open for one hour without assistance. It activated, lighting up with a gentle glow, and she directed her attention away from it and out through the distance, seeking out the spot she’d chosen and drawing a thread of magic along with her to connect the two places.

She hadn’t expected any interference with the casting, but was still relieved when the portal opened without incident. Through the silvery light of its surface, she could clearly see the forest and the landmarks she had directed Anduin to look for. It was in the right spot. She couldn’t see Anduin or Wrathion yet, but she had only just opened it and ten miles was quite the distance. As long as they arrived within the hour, it would be fine. She disengaged her magic from the spell and went to pour herself a cup of tea.

Twenty minutes later, she was out of her seat again and pacing nervously. There was still no sign of them, and even though she had expected them to be late, it was worrying. She considered stepping through the portal for a moment to look around, but decided against it. Using the portal would divert energy away from keeping it open, and could shorten the window of time that Anduin had to reach it.

A full three quarters into the hour, Jaina was ready to charge through the portal, consequences be damned, when it began glowing and pulsing in a way that meant someone was coming through. She stepped back and readied a fireball, just in case. The next second she was very grateful to herself for moving, because four people tumbled through the portal, all hanging onto each others’ clothes. It was a good thing they were, because the portal had been calibrated for two people. The effort of sending through four at such a late stage caused the beacon to spark alarmingly, and the portal closed with a loud pop.

“It’s okay, it’s us, don’t worry!” Anduin untangled himself from the pile, holding his hands up to calm her. “You don’t have to set anyone on fire, it’s okay. Wrathion wanted to bring his bodyguards.” He got to his feet, cringing slightly and rubbing at his knee. He’d wound up coming through first, and as a result had landed rather heavily on the floor. Jaina hurriedly grabbed him a chair, dragging it over from the table. He took it and sat down to cast a healing spell on the leg, smiling gratefully at her.

“I apologize for the delay,” Wrathion said, picking himself up from the floor and brushing his coat off. “I’m certain it wasn’t intentional, but you opened your portal very near a nest of very large, very angry insects. We couldn’t quite decide how best to get past them.”

Jaina’s eyes widened. “I saw the nest when I projected in, but I thought it was abandoned.” She checked Anduin for injuries, and when she found that he was clear she turned to look at the rest of the group. “Were any of you stung?”

“Nope!” Wrathion was grinning, and there was a worryingly manic tone to his voice. “Eventually we decided to cover our heads and run for it. Metaphorically cover, that is. Anduin produced a spectacular shield.” He shot Anduin an admiring look, excitement causing his eyes to glow brightly.

Much to Jaina’s dismay, Anduin’s response was to duck his head and smile, a blush forming on his face. “It wasn’t that great,” he said, his voice thick with pride. “Another second and it would have broken.”

Jaina made a mental note to keep them separated as much as possible. Anduin had been spending far too much time with Wrathion. Reckless as he’d been in the past, she was sure that rushing headlong through a nest of killer insects was not something he would have enjoyed before he left. “Khadgar has made arrangements for you to spend the night in the tower,” she told Anduin. “Wrathion, will you and your guards be all right with a tent? They’re enchanted to keep out the damp, and very comfortable. I’ve been staying in one myself.”

Wrathion’s smile faltered. “We’re not leaving right away?” he asked. “I would think that Prince Anduin’s father would be anxious to see him as soon as possible.”

Varian had made his way out to Draenor already, and was staying at the Lunarfall garrison in Shadowmoon, just over the mountains. Jaina hadn’t invited him to the mage tower, his presence would only have been a distraction if something went wrong. “He is very anxious,” she answered as diplomatically as possible. “But we agreed that you should all stay here overnight. That way you can try to get at least a few hours of rest.”

“I don’t-” Wrathion started to argue, but stopped when Anduin shook his head at him. He’d finished healing his knee but still looked worse for the wear. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was slumped over in his chair and eyes kept falling closed. Wrathion took in his appearance for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I… yes, that’s fine. I do not need any rest myself, but I see your point. My guards and I will be perfectly comfortable wherever you have space for us.”

“I’ll show you where to go,” Jaina offered. She didn’t trust him to find his own way around the camp. “Anduin, if you go up there,” she pointed up the stairs, where a door stood seemingly connected to nothing, “and open that door, there should be a room for you.”

Nodding, Anduin stood and slowly began making his way up the stairs. Wrathion watched closely, clearly wanting to see how the door worked, but Jaina forcefully herded him out of the tower. The sooner she could get him set up in the camp with guards on all sides, the better she would feel.

“Quite the place you have here,” Wrathion commented. The camp was small, but any place where more than a few mages congrated without outside assistance was bound to have its quirks. Wrathion kept up with her in stops and starts, craning head around to get a better look at the place. “Are you allowing people in yet?”

Annoyed, Jaina grabbed him by the sleeve to keep him moving. “You’re not on a field trip,” she snapped. “Consider yourself lucky that we’re giving you a tent instead of a containment field.” Wrathion had behaved well enough in her interactions with her so far, but she couldn’t forget that he was the one who had set off this entire war in the first place. Varian would be questioning him about his role in Garrosh’s escape, as well as pressing him for information about Ephial’s action at Taylor’s garrison.

He didn’t answer her, grinning as if he thought her threat was a funny joke. They couldn’t reach the end of the camp fast enough, and she dropped him off at his conjured tent with a strict warning. “Do not go outside for any reason until sunrise. It might look quiet out here, but we have sentries watching to make sure you do not go anywhere.” She held open the flap, and Wrathion sauntered inside with his guards close behind. “Meet us back at the tower first thing in the morning,” Jaina instructed him. “I’ll teleport us all to Lunarfall as a group.”

Wrathion bowed. “Thank you for the tour,” he said, smirking sarcastically. “I look forward to meeting King Wrynn.” He took the tent fabric out of her hand and closed it, leaving Jaina to fume quietly all the way back to the tower.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so nice to get a chapter finished on Friday for once, nothing to do on Saturday but relax and make minor edits. Still not happy with where it ended, but if I didn't stop there I would have wound up rambling for another 500 words looking for the perfect concluding sentence.
> 
> Anyway I promise that at least one interesting thing will happen next chapter. I feel like most of what I write is just setup.

A heavy fog hung in the air around the camp as Wrathion made his way back to the tower in the morning, escorted by a grim-faced mage. The sky was barely light and the sun was not yet above the horizon, so Wrathion didn’t blame the man for being unhappy. Few mortals enjoyed being awake at this hour. Even Left and Right, who were accustomed to keeping strange schedules, were subdued. He hadn’t slept at all himself, choosing instead to speak with his Blacktalons back in the Spires and think about the best way to conduct himself once he reached his next destination. All of his sources had told him that Varian Wrynn was usually a fair king, but that he had a volatile temper which sometimes got the better of him. In that, Wrathion felt that he was already at a disadvantage. He found himself hoping that Anduin’s presence would be enough of a distraction for him to slip around Wrynn’s anger and avoid any dire consequences.

Foggy mornings on the Veiled Stair had always made him feel revitalized, aware of every breath going into his lungs and confident in his own power. He could not recapture that feeling, drawing deep breaths of the air in Zangarra just made him feel like there was a swamp forming in his lungs. Giving up on that effort, he focused instead on the dark shape of the mage tower slowly coming into focus the nearer to it they walked. At the base of the tower, Jaina was waiting for him along with a gray haired man that Wrathion could only assume was Archmage Khadgar, the mage in charge of the Zangarra camp. He was speaking to Jaina but looked up when he noticed Wrathion’s group approaching, regarding them with interest. Wrathion put on his most menacing scowl. Being forced into an intrusive conversation with a nosy mage was not his idea of a good way to start the morning.

Khadgar waved at them when they got close. “Good morning!” he called, his cheerful voice sounding out of place in the gloom. “We’re finishing all the preparations, and I’ll be seeing you off to Lunarfall as soon as the sun’s up. Would you like some breakfast first? There really is no rush. I could get you some mana buns in no time.”

“No, thank you.” Wrathion had tried conjured food before and found that he didn’t care for it. No matter how much his senses told him that he was consuming something real, it always felt slightly insubstantial and usually left him feeling like he’d just swallowed a lot of empty air. Even if they’d had proper food to offer him, he probably would have turned it down. He was about to meet one of the most influential political figures on Azeroth, and the circumstances could not be further from ideal. Unsurprisingly, food was one of the last things on his mind. “Where’s Anduin?” he asked. It had been strange spending the night out in the camp with only Left and Right for company.

"Still inside. Be patient with him, he’s very tired.” Jaina gave him a disapproving look and he had to bite his tongue to stay civil. He was only _asking_ , it wasn't like he was making any demands on Anduin's time.

Determined not to give her anything else to criticize, Wrathion moved away from the group to sit on the stairs leading up to the mage tower. If he kept his distance from Jaina it would be easier for her to simply ignore him, and in this spot he would be the first to see Anduin when he came outside. It felt like it had been days since they had seen each other, although he knew it had only been hours.

Left and Right came to join him, leaving the two archmages to argue about topography or energy output or whatever it was they were concerned about, he wasn't listening. Teleportation magic was of very little interest to him, for who would choose to travel by such a means when flying was so spectacular? It was slower, certainly, but it gave a clearer view of the world than jumping from one place to another with nothing in between. Someday soon he would be big enough to carry others with him, he reflected, although he would not be doing that often. He didn't like the idea of having someone digging their ankles into his sides, although it would certainly be convenient to be able to carry his guards with him.

Or he could take Anduin flying. He'd thought about it a few times, but suddenly it felt like a new idea, shiny and exciting. Once this mess was settled, they could go anywhere they wanted. Nowhere too dangerous, just enough to be fun. Maybe somewhere in Kalimdor, he hadn’t spent very much time there himself. They could go exploring, just the two of them. He caught himself smiling at the thought and quickly schooled his expression back into a neutral, bored one. Nobody seemed to notice.

The door of the tower opened, and he jumped up rapidly as Anduin emerged out into the camp. Wrathion approached him, greeting ready in his throat, but decided against speaking when he got a better look at Anduin’s appearance. He looked like he hadn’t gotten a single bit of rest. His hair was still a mess from the night, his skin had an odd pale tone to it, and he was shaking a little bit, which made Wrathion worry for a moment that he might be ill.

He climbed up to the top step and went to take Anduin’s hand, with the intention of helping him steady himself on the way down, but Anduin batted him away. “Not now,” he whispered. Wrathion backed off in understanding. Jaina and Khadgar had noticed Anduin’s appearance and were now looking their way. For the moment, Anduin was telling him to keep his distance.

It was terrible timing. The brief conversation they’d had at the garrison had done very little for his understanding of where they stood with each other. In retrospect, it wasn’t entirely surprising to learn that Anduin had feelings for him. He had, after all, been trying to get closer to Wrathion for a long time. But _feelings_ was a very broad term, so Wrathion wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do or what he was meant to be feeling in return.

The simple solution would be to ask Anduin. He’d meant to do that back at the garrison, but defining the exact terms and expectations of their relationship, if that was even what it was, had gotten pushed aside in favor of coordinating an escape. Invitations had been extended to the few individuals he’d picked out as good fits for staying with the Blacktalons, schedules had to be planned with Jaina and his agents, and there just hadn’t been time. Nor was there any time now, they were already being beckoned over by Khadgar. In moments, they would be arriving at Lunarfall, and then there would be even more things to take priority.

“When we get there,” Anduin told him urgently, “you can’t say anything rude to my father. As far as he’s concerned you kidnapped me, if you upset him there’s a limit to how much I can help you.” He followed closely on Wrathion’s heels as they made their way over to Jaina and Khadgar, still whispering frantic advice. “Don’t try to be friendly either, he’ll think that’s a trick. And don’t say anything about why you took me with you, I have to make it clear that I left willingly. Actually, maybe don’t say anything at all. Let me talk to him.”

Wrathion raised his eyebrows, nodding slowly. He would have to speak with Varian Wrynn eventually, but if Anduin wanted to take the lead with their initial meeting, that was fine with him. It would give him some time to observe Wrynn directly, so that he might have a more accurate idea of who he was dealing with.

“Everyone ready to go?” Khadgar asked. “If you leave anything here, it might be a while before you can come back for it.”

There was no need to check in with Left and Right, who never carried anything that they couldn’t keep with them at all times. Wrathion briefly ran down a mental list of his possessions, but similarly to them, he wasn’t in the habit of leaving things behind. “Ready,” he said confidently.

Anduin just nodded. Khadgar and Jaina simultaneously gestured for a group transport spell, and the camp at Zangarra blinked out of sight.

* * *

 

 Varian paced back and forth across the room, stopping every time he passed the window to look out. Nobody else was in the town hall so early in the morning, the architect Alexton and his team would still be sleeping for hours. He knew that Anduin's arrival would not happen until past dawn, but he had been unable to rest so eventually he gave in and left his bed to wait in the darkened room where his son would soon be appearing.

He had been worried that something would go wrong with Anduin's retrieval. He had already evaded one attempt to bring him back, so it wasn't hard for Varian to imagine that he might try to avoid another. Even though Jaina had contacted him that night and assured him that Anduin had arrived safely at Zangarra, Varian couldn't make himself believe that he would be seeing his son again in only a few short hours.

How long had it been? It felt like years. He knew that it hadn't been as long as they'd been separated in the past, when Anduin had gone to study in the Exodar, but having Anduin run out on him was not something that was possible to get accustomed to. And it seemed like every time this happened, every time they had a conflict that Anduin decided wasn't worth trying to resolve, he was the instigator. That was the worst part, knowing that Anduin was so willing to give up on him. Anduin, the most tolerant person Varian knew, would rather walk away than try to reason with him. So far he had always come back eventually, given Varian another chance, but he knew that second chances weren't unlimited, even with Anduin. If he wasn’t careful, he would run out.

That left him with a problem, the one that had kept him awake all night and drove him to continue his restless circling. He had no idea what to say to Anduin when he arrived. Running away like that was unacceptable, Anduin knew that. If the Prince of Stormwind was known to be missing, it created a vast, obvious weakness that was like an open invitation for enemies of the Alliance to exploit. When Anduin’s safety was in question, it also threatened Varian’s. There were people who would benefit greatly from getting the King and Prince out of the way in one swoop.

He needed to impress on Anduin exactly how dire the consequences might have been for his reckless behavior, and he needed to make sure that it would never happen again. At the same time, he could not lose his temper or do anything that would make Anduin feel like he had no options, because that was exactly what had caused this mess in the first place. There was no way to win.

Hours passed by at a crawl, and shortly after sunrise the moment that Varian had been anticipating and dreading in almost even amounts finally arrived. The air shimmered in a way that announced an incoming portal, and then with an odd twitch of light an entire group of people blinked into view. The room, already mostly filled with a long table, seemed to shrink with the arrival of so many at once. Varian had been told to expect a larger party, but he still had trouble sorting them all out from each other, especially when the only person who mattered was Anduin.

There he was, standing in the middle of the group, looking right at Varian with a nervous expression on his face. Varian took in how exhausted he looked, how his clothes were stained and he had fresh scrapes on his hands and face. He knew he should be horrified to see Anduin in such a state, but that emotion was washed away in a tide of relief. Anduin was alive and safe, and looking him in the eye.

It took everything he had to stop himself from vaulting over the table to gather Anduin up in a hug. Anduin was watching him so warily that he felt sudden movements would do him no favors. He cleared his throat. “Anduin, I…”

His voice broke, and he had to stop. Just as well, he didn't even know what he'd been about to say. Anduin knew, though. He always knew. “I missed you too,” he said, and smiled as if he meant it.

There was enough hesitation in it that Varian knew they still had a long way to go, but he felt safe going around the table and putting a hand on Anduin's shoulder. “Don't scare me that way again.” He let a hint of warning creep into his tone, showing how serious he was and trying to communicate to Anduin that they would be having a longer discussion soon. Very soon, whenever they could speak privately. He didn’t want a group listening in on a personal conversation, and he was sure Anduin didn’t either.

With the most important thing out of the way, he let himself scan the rest of the group. Jaina was there of course, and Archmage Khadgar had teleported himself in with them. That alone told him that there was something more serious going on. Khadgar had an eye for danger, and his hunches were usually correct. Varian frowned and made a note to have the Lunarfall commander bolster security around the garrison. With so many powerful leaders in one place, it would make a good target for attack.

That left the three strangers, then. An orc and a human stood protectively in front of a young man, although they were at least polite enough to have left their weapons holstered. This, he assumed, was Wrathion. The dragon who had, by witness accounts, been responsible for the disruption of Hellscream’s trial, the subsequent formation of the Iron Horde, and the stealing away of Anduin. He didn’t look like much to Varian. The glowing eyes and sharp claws sticking out from his intricately patterned gloves might serve to intimidate someone with no sense, but to Varian it looked like a cheap intimidation tactic. Similar strategies had been employed by gladiators in the rings, and the most impressive-looking opponents were often the weakest.

Varian itched to find out if that hunch was correct. If it had been up to him alone, Wrathion would have found himself on the receiving end of an attack the very moment he materialized in Lunarfall. Unfortunately, Jaina had given him a speech about acting in defense of the greater good, and pointed out that Wrathion was a valuable witness against a dangerous enemy. As much as Varian would like to pick a fight, he would have to contain that impulse for the near future.

Wrathion was staring back at him with an expression of equal dislike, assuring him that the feeling was mutual. Varian wondered what he had done to earn such a scornful glare. Many months ago, before the siege at Orgrimmar, he'd been told by several loyal Alliance champions that the Black Prince spoke highly of him. It had made him uncomfortable to hear, he'd had enough of black dragons for a lifetime. He preferred the shared hatred, it felt much more natural.

Anduin coughed, drawing Varian’s attention again. He looked very uncomfortable, glancing between Varian and Wrathion. “I know we all have a lot to talk about,” he said, “but I was wondering if we could take a break first. I could use a bath, and none of us has had anything to eat yet.” He shrugged, uncharacteristically shrinking away from the group’s collective attention. “We all might be in a better mood then.”

An obvious attempt to put off a discussion that was certain to be uncomfortable and tense. Varian wasn't in the habit of allowing such delays, he preferred to get bad experiences out of the way as quickly as possible. Anduin also looked genuinely tired, so he decided to make an exception. “We'll all meet up again at noon, then. Everyone do what you need to do until then. Khadgar, Jaina, are you staying?”

The archmages exchanged a look, then Khadgar nodded. “If there's room for us here,” he said with a smile. “If not, we can go back to the mage tower. I don't want to interrupt any business at this garrison.”

“I'm sure we can find something.” Varian put his hand on Anduin's shoulder again, guiding him toward the door. “The inn’s this way. We'll talk once you've rested.”

Anduin tensed, but didn't argue. He allowed himself to be led outside, but cast a long look back as they walked out. “What about the others?” he asked. “They’re not coming with us?”

Absolutely not, Varian thought. If he had a say in it, those hooligans would be kept as far away from Anduin as possible, preferably for the rest of his life. Out loud, he said “Lunarfall’s inn is small, and there are already a number of guests staying there. They’ll stay in the barracks, where the commander can keep an eye on them.”

At that, Anduin stopped and began pushing slightly against Varian’s hand. “Give me just a second then,” he said, taking a few steps back into the hall. “I want to tell Wrathion where I'll be.”

“Can it wait?” Varian sighed. If he had his way, Wrathion would remain unaware of Anduin's whereabouts. They had spent enough time together, Anduin could easily find himself better friends. Friends who hadn't started a war, kidnapped him out of his bedroom at home, and whisked him away to risk his life in the warzone. 

“I guess so,” Anduin answered reluctantly, after a long pause. His shoulders slumped and he followed Varian back out.

* * *

 

 The clothes his father had brought from Stormwind for him were too small now, Anduin noticed after he was clean and dry. He hadn't noticed himself growing, but the pants were too short at the ankles and the shirt didn't sit properly over his stomach. They were still better than the stretched out clothes he'd brought along with him, he didn't think any amount of washing would get the smell of campfire smoke out of his favorite coat.

He had planned to go find the mess hall after he'd finished bathing, maybe try to bump into Wrathion somewhere and talk to him, but he changed his mind as soon as he saw the large, neatly made bed in his room. He hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, worries about Taylor's garrison and anxiety about seeing his father again had kept him up. It had turned out a little anticlimactic, and although he knew that a serious confrontation was still waiting in the wings he still felt relieved enough to rest. He crawled into the bed, pulled up the covers to block out the early morning sunshine, and was asleep within minutes.

He woke up to the familiar feeling of something with claws and a tail crawling over him to reach the side his face was on. Dragging himself out of the nap with significant effort, he settled for making a quiet, confused noise while he waited for his speaking ability to wake up.

"Don't worry,” Wrathion told him as he settled down to rest against his side. “You haven't missed anything. You can keep sleeping for a while longer if you want.”

“No, I'm okay, I'm awake.” Anduin sat up slowly, none of his muscles wanted to work. “How did you know I was here?” He smiled at Wrathion, who twitched his tail contentedly.

"It wasn't that difficult,” Wrathion informed him. He sounded almost unbearably smug. “As a dragon, my senses are much keener than yours. Tracking you to this room was simple.”

Anduin tried to work out how he felt about that, but gave up quickly. It was a little unsettling to think that he could be tracked, but Wrathion spoke of it in a way that made it sound entirely normal. He supposed that for a dragon, who relied on his senses for many things, it probably was. Besides, he didn't really mind Wrathion knowing where he was. He'd been around to pass along that information himself when his father stopped him.

“So you tracked me down and woke me up for no reason, then?” Anduin knew that Wrathion always had a reason. He'd only suggested that Anduin go back to sleep to be polite. In itself, that was more consideration than most people got from him.

“Well no, not quite.” Wrathion bowed his head and shuffled his wings in a draconic impersonation of a shrug. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other day. Between us, I mean.”

Anduin’s stomach dropped. He’d known he had messed things all up, Wrathion had just been humoring him. He had come here to let Anduin down gently, explain that while he liked Anduin a lot he just didn’t have the same feelings. Maybe he was even going to tell Anduin to go back home and let him keep adventuring alone. Friendship was already so new to Wrathion, he might have gotten scared.

Some of what he was thinking must have shown on his face, because Wrathion jumped up in alarm. “Oh, no, no, I didn't mean to scare you. I told you I’m not upset, I just want to ask you something.” He quickly shifted into human form, taking care not to rest his weight on Anduin, and smiled reassuringly.

It helped, but Anduin was still picking up on some nervous tension. Wrathion's smile was just a little too big to be entirely genuine, and he couldn't seem to decide where to look. Anduin moved over a little to make some more room for him. Wrathion was acting very reluctant to overlap their personal spaces, and Anduin didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

“You can ask me anything,” he said, bracing himself for an awkward conversation. As the one who had instigated things, it was his job to make sure he hadn't overstepped any of Wrathion's boundaries.

Wrathion nodded, but didn’t say anything right away. He sat back and looked steadily at Anduin, his eyes moving slightly to trace across his face, seeming to be taking in every detail. Anduin looked back, trying not to react but feeling his cheeks warming from the attention. Wrathion’s eyes could get so intense sometimes, like he was taking apart the world and turning it over in his mind.

“What do you feel when you look at me?” he asked, after staring for so long that Anduin was about to start squirming. “Can you describe it?”

Anduin’s mouth fell open by itself, and he scrambled to cover it with a strangled cough. He had thought he was embarrassed before, but now he felt like burying himself under the floorboards just to get Wrathion’s gaze off him. “That’s quite a question,” he said once he’d managed to compose himself. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Will you try anyway?” Wrathion asked. There was an edge to his voice, similar to the way he often sounded when he was nearing a panic. “I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do.”

So that was it. Anduin reached for Wrathion’s hand and took it in his own. It must have taken a lot for Wrathion to say that, to admit that he was confused. “You’re not supposed to do anything,” he said. “I’m as confused as you are. Maybe more. And I don’t feel just one way when I’m with you, that’s probably why it’s so hard to understand.”

“There must be something,” Wrathion pressed. “Some kind of expectation you have for me, or something you want me to feel.” He lifted his hand, bringing Anduin’s up with it, and held them up between them. “Was I supposed to do something when you did this? What should it make me feel? I’m not accusing you of pressuring me, I just want to know so I can start understanding.”

“Oh,” Anduin said, eyes widening in comprehension. Wrathion was looking for a foothold, so he could explore this new topic. “Well it’s a little embarrassing to talk about, and I’m probably not a good teacher, but I’ll try.” He squeezed Wrathion’s fingers. “When I do that, I worry that you’ll push me away, and then when you don’t it’s exciting. Does that sound like something you feel?”

“I think so,” Wrathion said. He tilted his head to look at their hands, and slowly moved to interlock their fingers. “Maybe not quite the same.”

He didn’t elaborate, so after waiting a minute Anduin continued. “I react more strongly to things you do, so when you’re being annoying it gets to me faster than anyone else.” He smiled and poked Wrathion in the shoulder with his other hand to show he was joking, Wrathion grinned back and went to return the push, Anduin batted his hand away. “The point is, when I’m with you I feel _more_ than when I’m not. I worry about you, I want you to be happy, I have an easier time relaxing when you’re with me.” He had the sudden impression that he was saying something ridiculous, and laughed. “I just like you a lot.”

“I like you a lot too.” Wrathion still sounded confused, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying, but his expression was firm. He leaned in for a kiss, stretching awkwardly over Anduin’s legs to avoid touching any other part of him.

Anduin broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together for a brief moment, closing his eyes and listening to Wrathion breathe. Lying back against his pillows, he tugged gently at Wrathion’s hand and waited to see what he would do. The invitation didn’t sink in right away, but Wrathion’s eyes lit up once it did. He lay down next to Anduin, stretching out along his side with a content sigh. When Anduin turned his head to look, Wrathion kissed him again. The blankets had become constricting with Wrathion lying on top of them, he struggled to turn over onto his side so he could more easily put his arm over Wrathion and pull him closer.

Neither of them knew what they were doing, but it didn’t matter. Within minutes Anduin had to stop, because his blood was running hot and cold depending on the moment, and even though he was breathing hard he felt like there wasn’t enough air in the whole world. Wrathion was similarly affected, although he was trying to hide it. Anduin caught sight of his pupils blown wide just before he ducked his head to nuzzle into Anduin’s collar.

That was nice in its own way, but it gave Anduin some time to think. Wrathion couldn’t stay here, not with the inn as crowded as it was. The amount of trouble he could get into if he was discovered in Anduin’s room didn’t bear thinking about. “You should probably go,” Anduin said reluctantly, gently pushing at Wrathion to lift his head. “My dad’s in the next room, and he’ll probably be coming to get me soon.”

Wrathion let all his breath out at once and thumped his forehead into Anduin’s shoulder. “I was hoping that you wouldn’t remind me,” he said, his voice muffled in Anduin’s shirt.

“I know,” Anduin sighed and ran his hand up Wrathion’s side to pet his neck. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about him. I want us to be able to have a real relationship, but he’ll be furious when he finds out.” He wasn’t optimistic enough to say if. His father had a way of sniffing out trouble.

“If it helps,” Wrathion offered, “I will refuse any challenge he gives me to do battle for your honor.”

“Take this seriously!” Anduin scolded, pushing a laughing Wrathion so that he nearly tumbled off the edge of the bed. “I can handle him being angry with me, it's you I'm worried about!”

Wrathion recovered, rolling back in to bury his face in Anduin's chest again. “I'll trust you to protect me,” he said in a teasing voice, then looked up at him with a grin. “I really am taking it seriously. I'll behave myself. You don't think I can win your dear father over with my charming personality?”

Anduin kissed him again just to make him stop laughing. Wrathion's habit of making jokes at terrible times really was annoying. He knew that Wrathion wouldn't let him deal with a disapproving Varian on his own, but he obviously wasn't going to fill Anduin in on what he was thinking. He had the impression that Wrathion thought it would be reassuring to show him how calm he could be about the whole thing. The effort was appreciated, even if it was unsuccessful. He sighed again, found a comfortable position for his head, and tried to doze off again. There was still time before he had to be up.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I for real thought I wasn't going to get this done on time, lol. Had to rush the end a bit, I have people coming over to my house this evening and they're going to be here in ten minutes so I was really down to the wire with this one.
> 
> Anyway, CHAPTER 30 YAY. That's a huge number, I can't believe I'm still writing this bloated monstrosity of a fic. Thanks to everyone who's been staying with me, I love seeing you all and hearing your comments, knowing that I've got a group here cheering me on is one of the main things keeping me going. 
> 
> I still don't have a solid enough plan to give a chapter estimate, but this is another reminder that we are steadily inching toward the end of the story. What I'm setting up here is intended to be the climax of the plot, so get ready.

Anduin was asleep again. Wrathion tapped him several times on the shoulder to make sure, he received no response. Lying back down slowly, so as not to jostle Anduin, Wrathion took the opportunity to really look closely at him. He always looked smaller asleep than he ever did while awake, that was the power of his personality. Whether it was with a smile or with an argument, Anduin demanded attention. Wrathion supposed it was a side effect of being a prince, or just one of having someone like Varian Wrynn for a father.

This was someone who he knew, without a doubt, wanted to be with him. His agents served him out of loyalty, but there was a fine line between loyalty to an individual and loyalty to a cause. Left and Right he could be more certain about, but he had his doubts even about them. Could he truly say that they would put up with all of his demands if they weren’t promised a share of the rewards? He’d promised Anduin nothing but an adventure, a chance to do some good for the world, and he’d failed to deliver even on that. Yet even though every one of his plans had failed and the whole trip could safely be classified as a disaster, Anduin was still willing to risk an already uneasy reunion with his family, just because he wanted to keep Wrathion with him.

It was unfair that Anduin was the one taking all the risks. He was the only one who stood to lose anything from this relationship, but Wrathion was unsure how to make things even. There was nothing he could put on the line for Anduin, and if there was he had no idea if he would do it. Anduin made everything seem so simple, even though he had said it was supposed to be confusing. He liked Wrathion, and that was all he needed to know. But it wasn’t that easy, it couldn’t be.

“What can I do?” he asked, quietly enough that it wouldn’t wake Anduin. He’d never even considered the idea that he might have to handle a relationship with someone, and it wasn’t like there was a handbook. One thing he was reasonably sure of, however, was that relationships were about reciprocity, giving something to the other person and getting something in return. Anduin had done many things for him, maybe even saved his life when he’d been injured and held captive. Was he getting something for that? Had Wrathion ever done anything for him? He sighed and lay his head back down, feeling the warmth of Anduin next to him and wondering how to proceed. Anduin was right, he really did have to go soon. It was almost time for the meeting, and he would have to leave the inn and pretend he’d been somewhere else this whole time. It would only be temporary, Anduin himself acknowledged that they couldn’t hide forever, but he hated the idea of acting like nothing had changed.

He knew Anduin didn’t like it either, so it would be unfair to be annoyed with him about it. It was King Varian he ought to be annoyed with, which was easy enough to manage. There were already many reasons for him to dislike the man, starting with his refusal to act according to plan and ending with how nervous Anduin acted at the prospect of being around him. When he got the chance to speak with King Varian, he had some things to say that he had been composing in his head for a very long time.

A chair scraped in the next room, Varian must have decided it was time to stop working and get ready for the meeting. That was Wrathion’s cue to leave. He got up and made an effort to smooth down Anduin’s blanket, so that it wouldn’t look like anyone had been lying on it, then quietly crossed the room to look out the window. He had flown in that way, but the garrison courtyard was more crowded now. Archmage Khadgar was standing directly below it talking to a young Draenei that Wrathion didn’t recognize. Wrathion had been hoping to avoid sneaking through the inside of the inn, and Khadgar was not openly hostile to him in the way that Varian and Jaina were, but he doubted that any good would come of being seen slipping out of Anduin’s bedroom window when he was supposed to be somewhere else.

Stealth it was, then. Wrathion went to the door and pressed his ear against it. He couldn’t hear anybody in the hallway and he knew Varian was still in his own room, so it was time to move. Easing the door open just enough to squeeze through, he slipped out into the hall and closed the door behind him. It didn’t creak, there was nothing to give away his presence, so he started off down the hall feeling very pleased with himself. Maybe he would stop by the kitchen on the way out and grab something for Anduin, who he was sure hadn’t remembered to get anything for himself.

“What are you doing here?”

Wrathion stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face Varian Wrynn, who had somehow exited his room as silently as the best rogues and was standing behind him in the hallway. “Leaving,” he said, gesturing down the hallway.

Varian folded his arms and scowled. “All right then. What _were_ you doing?” He leaned up against the wall in a way that emphasized the sword hanging at his belt. “Just a suggestion, the answer had better not involve bothering my son.”

“I don’t bother him,” Wrathion replied through gritted teeth. “Believe it or not, he likes me.” There were times when the urge to bite someone became so strong that his teeth felt oddly large, fitting poorly in his mouth. “I wanted to talk to him, so I came to see if he was available. He’s sleeping, so I left. Is that acceptable?” He didn’t even bother trying to keep his tone polite. For Anduin’s sake he would not start a fight, but he saw no reason to pretend that he enjoyed Varian’s company.

Varian’s mouth twisted in a mockery of a smile. “Of course it’s not,” he said. “And it doesn’t matter if he likes you. When Onyxia had Bolvar and I bewitched, we thought we liked her too.”

A growl forced its way up through Wrathion’s throat before he was even finished fully processing Varian’s sentence. “Anduin is not brainwashed, hypnotized, blackmailed, or anything else,” he spat. “If you would speak to him for longer than a minute, you would know that. Or perhaps you know it already, but don’t want to accept the fact that he’d rather spend time with me than with you.”

He understood that he’d crossed a line when Varian took a step toward him with a feral snarl that should have looked ridiculous on a human’s features but somehow did not. Wrathion held his ground, staring back at him with an equally threatening expression, daring Varian to hit him. He wouldn’t do it, not right outside Anduin’s door, but part of Wrathion really wished he would. Then, at least, he would have an excuse to strike back.

Neither of them had a chance to start the fight that was brewing, because the door swung open. Anduin stepped out between them, standing up as tall as he could and brimming with contained anger. “Stop it, both of you,” he said in a low voice, looking pointedly at each of them in turn. “And don’t try to say you weren’t doing anything, I could hear you through the door. I can understand if you don’t like each other, but Father, don’t make accusations against Wrathion unless you have some evidence to back them up. And Wrathion, don’t try to provoke my father. You promised.”

Disappointing Anduin felt worse than fighting with him. Wrathion lowered his head to break eye contact with him. He would not apologize, he told himself firmly, not in front of Varian Wrynn. That might give off the impression that he regretted his words, when he had said only a small part of what he wanted to. Varian Wrynn could not be allowed to insult him the way he had, and it was unacceptable that he would attempt to threaten Wrathion for the sole offense of existing in the same general area as Anduin. However, Anduin was right. He _had_ promised to try not to start any fights while they were here. Wrathion took some pride in keeping his promises, when he made them.

“I’ll go then, and wait at the town hall.” He raised his head again and briefly locked eyes with Anduin to signal that this was a willing retreat. “Hopefully our conversations there can be somewhat more productive. As your father knows, we have some work to do.” With a last, meaningful glare at Varian Wrynn, he marched off down the hallway.

* * *

 

 Varian gave a sidelong look at Anduin, who was watching Wrathion go with the air of someone who was seeing something very embarrassing happen, but was powerless to stop it. “What you said to him was awful,” he said quietly, not looking up at Varian. “He’s a pain to deal with sometimes, but he’s not the type to try controlling people by magic. He likes to make people think they came up with his ideas on their own.”

As far as Varian was concerned, that wasn’t any better. What did it matter if Wrathion used magic to get into peoples’ heads or simply manipulated them? He was still a sneaky, deceitful person, and more importantly, he was infuriating. He’d drawn Varian into an argument so easily that it was shameful. He was supposed to be able to control his emotions more than that, he’d spent years working on it. Picking a fight with a dragon only a few years old was beneath him, and he was disgusted that he’d been tricked into it. Wrathion was trying to make him look bad, he was sure of it.

“That’s an understatement,” he replied. “He’s not a minor nuisance, Anduin. He’s a very serious threat, and I don’t understand how you can act so casual about him.”

“By those standards you’d have to label me a threat too,” Anduin said. He sounded calm, but the fact that he still wasn’t facing Varian said otherwise. “I was right there with him when he set Garrosh free, and I’ve been an equal player on his team for a long time now.” He shrugged. “I’m not asking you to be his friend, just to stop treating him like the enemy. He didn’t plan for any of this to happen, and he’s trying to help now.”

“What did he expect to happen?” Varian asked, losing the battle to keep his voice down. “You can’t possibly tell me that he had a good reason for releasing an unstable warlord with a grudge against all of Azeroth.”

“Oh no,” Anduin said, shaking his head. “There was a reason, but not a good one. I thought it was a terrible idea. He knew it was too but he was going to do it anyway, because he thought there was still a chance it might turn out the way he wanted. So I had to help him, he was going to get himself in a lot of trouble and I couldn’t let him do it alone. You can at least understand that, right?”

Varian made a noncommittal noise. He could understand that Anduin wouldn’t want to let his friend go into danger alone, but what he couldn’t understand was how someone like Wrathion could inspire that kind of dedication. He was rude, arrogant, and always seemed to be on the verge of violence. Perhaps he was nicer to Anduin, but Anduin had very poor tolerance for anybody who used threats and intimidation as a means of communication. If Wrathion always behaved the way he had since arriving at Lunarfall, then Varian could not fathom how they’d gotten to be friends in the first place. He started walking and gestured for Anduin to follow. They would need to be at the town hall soon, and then he would be able to see if Wrathion’s alleged good intentions would hold up to scrutiny.

When they arrived, Wrathion was not there. Varian found this suspicious, as he had left the inn before them and they hadn’t seen him on the way over. He took a seat neat to Anduin at the table and looked around, wondering if maybe he just hadn’t looked closely enough, but the only other people present were Jaina and a few members of the garrison’s planning team, who had begun swiftly gathering up their work when they saw Varian arrive. He felt badly about disrupting their business, but there was no place in the garrison better suited for a secure meeting to discuss sensitive issues. Relocating a group of workers for an afternoon was worth the added safety. Anduin smiled and apologized to them as they went, which reminded Varian to at the very least give them a nod. He would get someone to help them put their workspace back together once they once in here.

Wrathion wandered in a few minutes later, flanked by his guards. Varian sighed audibly through his nose when he saw them. If possible, he trusted those two even less than Wrathion himself. They never spoke, refused to give up their weapons, and constantly stared down anyone who was unlucky enough to catch their attention. He hadn’t brought any personal guards into this meeting for security reasons, so he didn’t see any reason for Wrathion to be allowed his. “Do they have to be here?” he asked under his breath.

“They’re involved too,” Anduin whispered back. “Left and Right are really okay, I promise.”

Varian exchanged looks across the table with Jaina, and was relieved to see that they shared an opinion. Anduin’s assessment of who was and wasn’t okay to be around was rapidly becoming worthless, Varian thought. He wouldn’t have thought that a pair of stony-faced assassins could ever be counted among Anduin’s list of safe individuals. Just what had he been going through on Draenor, if these were the people he suddenly wanted to keep company with? Very soon he would need to sit down with Anduin and somehow extract the full story of what exactly Wrathion had hoped to accomplish, and what they had been doing all this time.

However, that would have to wait, as the door opened again to admit Khadgar. He smiled at everyone and held the door for the young Draenei Yrel, who had become a valuable ally for the forces stationed in Shadowmoon. Varian’s mood lifted at once. He hadn’t expected Yrel to be present, and it occurred to him that Anduin might get along well with her. She shared his affinity for the Light, after all, and she was very kind. All in all, she would make a much more respectable friend for Anduin. Maybe if he made some decent friends, he would realize how many things were wrong with Wrathion. Varian stood up quickly and beckoned her over. “It’s good to see you, Yrel. I didn’t realize Khadgar had invited you. Come meet my son, Anduin.”

Anduin had been looking across the table at Wrathion, who was speaking quietly in Orcish with his guards, but at the sound of his name he jumped and stood up to shake Yrel’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” He smiled politely at her before sitting back down to watch the conversation again. Varian knew that Anduin spoke a little bit of Orcish, and could probably understand a fair amount of the conversation. For some reason he found it alarming to think that Anduin had access to whatever Wrathion was saying, while he did not.

“Yrel has really been making a name for herself among our forces lately,” he said to draw Anduin's attention back. “She was instrumental in helping us gain the trust of her people, and she's a very capable fighter.”

"Yes," Khadgar chimed in, having caught on. “Especially since the loss of the Prophet, she has truly stepped up and proved herself a capable leader.”

If Varian could have reached across the table to slap him, he would have. The change in the atmosphere was immediate. Anduin drew in a sharp breath, digging his fingers into the tabletop. “Velen is dead?” He asked in a strained, shaking voice.

Khadgar realized the impact of his words right away and hurriedly backtracked. “The Velen you know is still safe on Azeroth,” he assured Anduin. “This world’s Velen was recently killed preventing the destruction of a large part of the valley.”

“I'm sorry to hear it,” Anduin said softly. “I would have liked to meet him. It sounds like he was just as incredible as the Velen I know.”

Yrel nodded and smiled sadly. “He was wonderful.”

“Khadgar, do we have to discuss this now?” Varian asked, frustrated that all the morale had been leeched out of the room so quickly. “I’m sure there will be time to fill Anduin in on our losses and gains sometime when we don’t have other business.”

“In this case, it’s relevant.” Khadgar replied. “I do apologize for the distress, however.” He spread out a map of Draenor on the table and traced a line across it with his finger, creating a glowing mark in the air just above the map. “Archmage Proudmoore and I theorize that the individual communicating with the mage Ephial was none other than the leader of the Shadowmoon clan, Ner’zhul. As some of us know and some of us do not, his clan was responsible for the Prophet’s death. Until recently we believed his influence to be limited to this valley, but since allying his clan with the Iron Horde he has been pushing for more and more power. Necromancy and shadow magic are the trademarks of the Shadowmoon warlocks, so it was certainly a shock to see such things being practiced so far away.”

“Are you sure about this?” Varian ran through all the recent reports he’d received on the Ner’zhul situation. “I was under the impression that he’d gone into hiding after his attempt to destroy Karabor failed. Would he have enough power left to stage something like this?” He had been comfortably considering the Shadowmoon clan a nonissue ever since this world’s Velen had ripped the power of a corrupt Naaru from them. They were associated with the Iron Horde but did not participate in battles and were seen as one of the weaker clans at present.

“Long-distance communication is difficult, but possible for any experienced magic user.” Khadgar indicated the map again. “What I marked out is a ley line which directly connects Shadowmoon Valley with the Spires of Arak. Following ley lines makes it possible to do magic in places far remote from one’s actual location, Archmage Proudmoore employed such a tactic while locating Prince Anduin. After that, no special power is required to manipulate a power-hungry mage.”

Jaina spoke up just after Khadgar finished, and before Varian could reply. “That’s not the only reason we have to think he’s involved,” she said. “I noticed unusual activity on the ley line Khadgar is indicating while I was investigating in the Spires. There is a lot of dark magic being channeled down it. At first we attributed it to the normal influence of the Shadowmoon orcs, but now that we’re closer to the source we were able to take a closer look. It’s not incidental, it’s a deliberate influx of energy. It could be that this entire situation is a test for the Shadowmoon to find out how well they can control events at a distance, so they can strike at us while remaining safely hidden away.”

Varian’s hand involuntarily twitched toward his sword, propped up against the leg of the table. No spellcaster was a match for him in battle, but that depending on him being able to reach them. The greater distance between them, the more a magic user could harm him before he had the chance to cut them down. “But we know where they are, don’t we?” he said. “They’ve all holed themselves up in those crypts to the south, so why are we still here talking about them? Why not storm the place and eradicate them now? The longer we wait, the more time they have to prepare their attack.”

“Careful, Varian.” Jaina smiled at him. “We all appreciate your enthusiasm, but we have to consider that this may be a trap. The Shadowmoon are not trying to disguise their presence on the ley line at all, and they’ve chosen a high-priority Alliance outpost to target. We need to consider the facts, and scout out the area before we proceed.”

At that, Wrathion perked up. He had been gently kicking his feet against the table legs and staring off into space, looking almost bored, but at the mention of scouting he sat forward with a grin. “My Blacktalon agents are among the most capable scouts in the world. Any rogue in my employ could spend days in an enemy fortress without being detected.” He gestured to his orc guard. “With a little bit of disguising, Left here could even blend in as one of them.”

Anduin frowned, his brows furrowing with concern. “Are you okay with that, Left? It doesn’t sound very safe to go in alone, especially since we don’t really know anything about these orcs.”

The orc nodded at him. “I will do anything that my Prince asks of me. If I am discovered, which I will not be, I can always kill my way out.”

If Varian didn’t put his foot down, this was going to get out of hand. Wrathion obviously had an ulterior motive for offering to help, he didn’t know why Khadgar or Jaina hadn’t stopped him. “Absolutely not,” he said, glaring at Wrathion. “You send her in alone, and you could tell us that she found anything down there. We would have no way to verify the truth. She takes an Alliance agent with her, or she doesn’t go at all.”

Wrathion spread his hands out, palm up, over the table in a pacifying gesture. “Of course, that’s perfectly acceptable.” He smiled, raising an eyebrow at Varian. “I don’t want to step on any toes. I’m sure we can find someone almost as skilled as Left among those stationed here.”

Everyone was looking at him now, Varian noticed, and he realized that he’d been toyed with again. Wrathion had made him seem unreasonable, just for making a request stemming from rational concerns. He had no choice but to give in. “Very well, I’ll put you in contact with the commander here. Your guard can select her mission partner from among those who are willing to volunteer.”

“Good, I’m glad that’s settled.” Khadger was either unaware of the tension or choosing to ignore it. He clapped his hands together and smiled cheerfully at Anduin. “Now then, Prince Anduin, I want to know exactly what you and the Black Prince observed at Admiral Taylor’s garrison. Please be as specific as possible, don’t leave anything out.” Resting his chin on his hands, he waited expectantly to hear Anduin’s story.

* * *

 

 “Quite the interrogation they put you through.”

Anduin didn’t need to look up to see the amused smile on Wrathion’s face. He’d escaped the meeting hall as quickly as possible, after being subjected to several hours’ worth of questions from Jaina, Khadgar, and his father about every waking moment he had spent at Taylor’s garrison, as well as some moments where he hadn’t been awake. By the time the three of them had let him go and retired to confer, he felt like he was going to keel over. He’d only gotten a few hours of sleep in the last day and a half, his head was spinning from the effort of remembering everything, and his last proper meal was nothing but a distant memory. “Yeah,” he said, slumping further down on the bench he’d collapsed onto. “Thanks for your help, by the way.”

“It isn’t my fault that none of them want to speak to me,” Wrathion said. He sat down next to Anduin, seemingly content to ignore that actually, yes, it was his fault. “I did try to chime in, but your father keeps shutting me down.”

“Great excuse, Wrathion.” Nobody was around, so Anduin took the opportunity to lean his head against Wrathion’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and pressed his face into the fabric, feeling himself start to relax. “Bring me something to eat and I might not hold it against you.”

“Well I would,” Wrathion said, cautiously trying to stand but giving up when Anduin grabbed hold of his arm, “but I seem to be stuck here. A mysterious force is holding me down.”

“Hmm. Too bad for you, then.” Anduin loosened his grip on Wrathion’s arm, in favor of reaching down to grab his hand. “You’ll have to deal with my wrath now. I’m the prince you know, I could tell my father you’ve been trying to starve me to death.” Wrathion’s hand was warm and rough, the way it always was.

“Would it soothe your rage if I had Right fetch something for you?” Wrathion turned more toward Anduin so he could rub his face against Anduin’s hair like an affectionate cat. “She’s helping Left pick out her new teammate, but she could easily take a moment to run over here with food for our poor starving captive prince. You wouldn’t have to move at all.”

Anduin sighed and shook his head, sitting up straight again. “I don’t want to bother them if they’re busy. Besides, my dad could come back outside any time.” He returned his grip to Wrathion’s forearm and gave it a small tug. “Come on, help me up. I really do want something to eat before I pass out again. Today’s been a lot to handle.” He held on tight and braced himself against Wrathion to stand, his leg always started aching badly when he was overtired. The barracks was closer but he couldn’t stomach the thought of mess hall food, so he steered them with some effort back toward the inn. Wrathion was hanging back, and it was making walking more of a challenge than it needed to be. He could stand on his own once he was up, and could probably get himself back to his room without any difficulty, but the leg gave him an excuse to keep holding onto Wrathion.

Now that he was looking at it properly, the Lunarfall garrison was an odd place. All the standard-issue army buildings were in place, but the longer he looked the more things he noticed that would be very out of place in military outposts. A pet battle ring, a gardener chasing a large, mobile plant away from the crops with a spade, he even thought he saw the tail end of a saberon disappearing around the corner of a building. Once he had a spare minute that didn’t need to be spent on basic survival functions, he would have to take a look around and see what else he could find. It was a big garrison, it might take him more than one day to explore.

“Are you sure you want to go this way?” Wrathion asked him mildly, pulling back more firmly. “I’m not afraid of your father, but if he finds me inside the inn again he might try to do more than just insult me.”

“I’ll be with you this time, so I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.” Anduin tugged emphatically toward the inn. “Come on, it’s quieter in there and I want a decent sandwich. That stuff they’re serving in the mess hall looks awful, and I can smell it from here.”

Wrathion scoffed. “You spend months living on roots and wild animals, and now you decide to be a picky eater? The mess hall food is fine, it’s mostly meat anyway. Perfectly edible.”

His scorn did not stop him from ordering two roast beef sandwiches for himself once they got inside the inn. To Anduin’s surprise, nobody even looked twice at Wrathion. Did they not recognize him for who he was? Did they just not care? He’d seen enough shady-looking characters wandering around the garrison to make him suspect the latter, but it was still a nice break. He was sick of having to convince everyone they met that Wrathion wasn’t going to suddenly snap and start throwing fire everywhere. All the same, he decided to bring their food up to his room instead of eating in the common area. He needed some quiet to make sense of everything he’d seen and heard that day.

“Are you all right?” Wrathion asked him when he flopped down onto his bed like he’d been on his feet for years. “You seem unhappy.”

“Do I?” Anduin sighed and held out a hand for his food, taking a bite big enough to pose a choking hazard and working on it while he thought of a response. “I guess it’s just that everything is moving so fast now,” he answered after swallowing. “Like you said, we were out there for a long time and we barely saw any signs of the war. And now we’re here and everything seems real again, and it’s like I missed a year’s worth of events.” He pushed himself up against the headboard and pulled his knees toward his chin with a sigh. “I can’t believe Velen died and nobody at Taylor’s garrison even thought to tell me.”

“The Archmage said it wasn’t your Velen,” Wrathion reminded him, crawling up to sit next to him. “You never even met this one.”

“I know, but he’s still sort of the same person, right?” Anduin shrugged. “It’s still sad. Draenor still lost an amazing person. It would be disrespectful to think that it doesn’t matter because our Velen is still alive.” He shook his head, he was explaining this badly. “I guess it’s just… Velen is one of the most powerful people I know. I never even thought about what it would be like to lose him, because I never thought it would be possible for anything to kill him. And now I can’t help thinking about it. The war isn’t just us against the world anymore, it’s a real thing with real losses. And I think we caused it.”

He forced himself to focus back on his sandwich, because he didn’t have the energy to cry. Wrathion put an arm across his shoulders and pulled him close, but there was something tentative in the motion. “None of it was your fault,” he said. “And I’m going to fix it.”

Anduin didn’t tell him that there were some things that couldn’t be fixed. Wrathion would know that already, and his words were comforting even if the truth in them was weaker than it looked. He leaned back into Wrathion and said nothing else, just finished his lunch and waited for everything to stop looking so hopeless. Eventually, he knew, it would.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-fun Conversations: The Chapter. 
> 
> It's a little short this week. I got slammed by The Depressions on Monday and didn't get a lot done until yesterday. I am feeling a little better now and will hopefully get back into the swing of things for next week. Lots of character stuff in this one, not as much plot. I tried to make everyone's thought processes make sense but I'm not thinking real well myself right now so I make no promises.

The scouts set out for the crypts in the early morning. Left had chosen a night elf as her mission partner, a druid who could take the form of a large, silent cat to hide her presence. Nobody was happy with this arrangement. Left worked best with Right, and if Right could not go then she would have preferred to go alone. Wrathion wanted both his guards with him at the garrison, to discourage the soldiers from trying anything, but he had chafed at the idea of being brushed aside and told to let the _grown ups_ handle things. He would have an active part in the battle, even if all he could do at present was get involved in delegating missions. Right, for her part, was furious to be missing out on the fun. Wrathion couldn’t think of any way to make her feel like her job was equally important.

He met the two of them at the garrison gate before Left’s departure. None of them wanted a sentimental farewell, as that would be akin to admitting the possibility that something could go wrong, but neither Wrathion or Right wished to let Left go off on the mission without a farewell. Wrathion kept it simple, refreshing the magic on her gem although it did not need it and instructing her to be careful. There was no time for long goodbyes, she would want to take advantage of the dawn hours to travel as far as possible without the risk of being traced, and Wrathion was not selfish enough to waste time on his well-wishes when he was sure Right had quite a bit more she would like to say. He backed away to let them talk, looking around the garrison and listening to the sounds of the world waking up around him instead of listening in on what they said. Left and Right had served him loyally for years and he was certain they would continue to do so. That was all he needed to know, he had no reason to intrude upon their private conversations.

They didn’t speak on the way back to the barracks. Wrathion kept his distance from Right, trying not to look at her but unable to ignore the questions gnawing at the back of his mind. When they were safely back in his room, with the garrison still sleeping around them, he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “You love Left.” It wasn’t a question, he knew it to be fact, but there was a half-formed question lurking behind it.

Right didn’t even look up from the dagger she was sharpening, answering his statement with one of her own. “This is about Anduin Wrynn.”

“Yes.” There was no point in pretending otherwise. Left and Right knew everything about him. He was able to keep secrets from them only because they sometimes looked the other way. Sitting down on the end of his bed, Wrathion tried to find a way to ask what he wanted to know without sounding childish. There wasn’t one, so instead he just sent her a plaintive look and waited for her to understand.

It seemed that he would have to wait until she was finished sharpening her dagger. Wrathion sighed quietly and lay back against his pillows, letting the familiar rhythmic scraping of the blade against the whetstone calm his mind. He didn’t mind waiting, he still had no real plans for how to approach this conversation. All he knew was that the best strategy for learning about a new topic was to ask an expert, and while he wouldn’t consider either of his bodyguards to be experts in any kind of social interaction, in this case they both had more experience than he did. Right took her dagger off the whetstone and held it up to examine the blade. Then, satisfied, she returned it to its sheath and drew another one.

She didn’t speak again until she was halfway through sharpening the second knife, a long enough time that Wrathion was beginning to question if she would even say anything at all. Sometimes she would do that, leave it up to him to prompt her on what to say even when she surely already had some idea. “You think you love him, then?” she asked, testing the sharpness of the dagger on a bit of spare leather and returning it to the stone.

Wrathion had been expecting this discussion, had been the one to seek it out, but he still found himself suddenly out of his depth. “I don’t know what I think,” he said, then bit his tongue in disgust. If he could pay someone else to have this conversation for him, he would. It was degrading to let on that there was so much he still didn’t know. Right had seen him at his best and at his worst and this was nowhere near his worst, so he braced himself and continued. “Up until several days ago, I did not believe myself capable of that emotion.” Then again. until he met Anduin he also did not believe himself capable of the emotion of friendship. He frowned, calling up the memories of his last interactions with Anduin in as much detail as possible, really focusing in on the rush of emotion that slammed into him as soon as he did. “I don’t feel any different,” he concluded, “but I can’t say for sure what that feeling is. I’ve never considered it in detail before.” He’d never had to.

Right nodded, still looking only half interested. One of the reasons she made a wonderful bodyguard was that she had no curiosity about his personal life, and was usually willing to turn a blind eye when it intruded into her space. In this case, however, he was actively seeking her insight, so her disinterest was mildly insulting. “Might be time to start doing that,” she said.

This wasn’t helping. Wrathion sighed irritably, blowing out some smoke in her direction. “That’s obviously what I’m trying to do,” he said. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling.” Anduin hadn’t specifically mentioned love, but Wrathion was reasonably sure that was what he’d been trying to express. Nobody would risk getting on the bad side of Varian Wrynn’s legendary temper for the sake of spending time with someone they didn’t love.

“Ah,” Right said, sounding like he’d just explained one of the world’s greatest mysteries to her. Instead of elaborating, she went back to sharpening. Sometimes Wrathion thought that she enjoyed watching people get angry. His options, it seemed, were to take the bait and give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten to him or wait it out and waste even more time on this excruciatingly uncomfortable subject.

“So? Are you going to help me or not?” The choice was clear, he took the bait. He wasn’t going to sit there and let his own bodyguard torment him. “I’m aware that this isn’t your first choice of activity, and believe me when I say that I am not enjoying talking to you about this either, but I don’t have a lot of options here.” He wasn’t about to go ask Varian Wrynn for romantic advice regarding his own son, and grabbing a soldier at random off the garrison grounds to pick their brains would be an even worse decision.

“Maybe, but you’re not going to like what I think,” Right answered. She put her whetstone down, carefully setting the dagger on its side with the sharp edge facing away from her before turning to give him her full attention. “Do you really want my help, or do you just want me to do what I usually do and stab your problems until they’re gone?”

Wrathion cringed. That was a bad choice of words, he didn’t want to even entertain the thought of Right stabbing Anduin. “I don’t think violence would be appropriate in this context, so please, by all means, help me.” He gestured for her to continue. “I’m sure there must be some trick to understanding this _love_ thing, you and Left seem to have it down well enough.”

Right shook her head, the look on her face annoyingly close to amusement. “Just because it looks easy, that doesn’t mean it is. I’ve known Left for years, since before you hatched. What you see is the result of more confusion and fighting than I care to remember.” It was rare for her to smile, but her eyes softened slightly. “Orcs and humans are more similar than most would like to admit, it was just the little details we got caught up on. Feelings are simple, it’s knowing what to do with them that gets complicated.”

That wasn’t helpful at all. Wrathion shifted into his dragon form with an irritated huff, turning so he could lie facing away from her. “Forget I asked.” All she’d done was make him feel stupid, by implying that what he was having such trouble with was in fact supposed to be the easy part. He might have been better off talking to Varian Wrynn after all.

* * *

 

 Someone was knocking on the door. Anduin looked up from the book he was reading, glad that he’d managed to at least get himself up at a reasonable hour of the morning. His belongings were scattered all over the room in the aftermath of his half-awake attempts at unpacking the previous night, but his clothes were clean and his hair was combed. All told, he felt like a real person again, and not just a spirit that was being propelled along by outside forces. “Door’s unlocked,” he called, wondering who it could be on the other side. Probably Jaina, wanting to ask him more follow up questions to the account he’d already given her of his travels.

The door opened, and his father was standing on the other side. He didn’t come in, nor did he comment on the safety risks inherent in the prince of a kingdom leaving his door unguarded and open. All he did was glance around Anduin’s room, inspecting the state of it and always on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. “Get your shoes on,” he said. “And meet me outside. We’re going on a walk.”

So it was time for the lecture, Anduin thought as he watched his father walk away down the hall. He had been wondering when it was going to happen, it was a surprise that Varian had put it off for as long as he had. Perhaps he’d thought he was being considerate, waiting for Anduin to get his energy back before confronting him, but it had only given Anduin more time to wonder what his punishment for running away might be. It would be a relief, in a way, to get it over with. Then he would know what kind of trouble he was facing, instead of just trying to imagine it. He reached for his shoes, glad that he hadn’t yet had breakfast. If he had, the tension that the open door was creating in him might have caused him to be sick.

Varian was waiting in front of the inn when he got outside, squinting a little bit in the morning light. The soldiers and workers at the garrison had been awake and at work for hours already, the civilian traders and explorers were just now rousing. Over the next hour, Anduin knew that the town center would become a crowded mess of people, but his father led him away from there purposefully, toward the northern gate of the wall. “You’ll like this,” was all he said. “You can actually hear yourself think over here.”

Anduin followed after him, grateful that his father’s temper was still lying dormant below the surface but cautious not to do anything that might wake it up. Varian was seeking out somewhere quiet, someplace where there wouldn’t be as much activity to distract them and create additional stress, so if he was careful he might be able to get out of this conversation without seeing it escalate to a real fight. To his surprise, the gate did not open out into wilderness. There was a pocket of land at the edge of a cliff that was effectively sealed off by the mountains, so it had not been walled off with the rest of the garrison. Anduin’s interest was taken by the mine that had been excavated deep into the mountain on one side, but Varian steered him away.

“Don’t go over there,” he cautioned sternly. “We’re still digging up goren every now and then.”

That was all Anduin needed to hear to take several steps back away from the cave mouth. One goren wasn’t as bad as a whole group of them, but if there were any in the mine at all it was a job better suited for the garrison guards. He allowed his father to lead him to the left instead, away from the cave and toward a small pond. It was a stunningly beautiful place, but he knew his enjoyment of it was tempered by the knowledge of why they were here. He would have to come back by himself sometime to have a better look.

A small fishing shack was visible on the other side of the bridge that passed over the water nearest the path, but Varian did not go that way. He took Anduin off the path and around the edge of the wall, past the base of a large tree and into a relatively secluded spot at the water’s edge. There were people going about their work only feet away, but being surrounded on three sides by rocks and trees and with the water extending out on the open side, it felt a little more private than a crowded inn or a corner of the garrison. Sitting down on the grass by the water’s edge, Varian motioned for Anduin to join him. Anduin sat slowly, still watching his father carefully for any signs of anger. This was certainly a better way to start a lecture than by trying to intimidate him, or threatening to confine him to his room again. Maybe he wasn’t in as much trouble as he’d feared.

“You have to go home,” Varian said. His voice was heavy, and he was looking down into the pond instead of up at Anduin. “You know that.”

Anduin’s heart sank. His father couldn’t be sending him away now, not when he finally had a chance to make up for some of the damage he’d done. “I know, but I...”

Varian interrupted him. “No. No reasons, no excuses. I’m sorry for making you feel like you needed to run away, Anduin, I really am, but my main concern has to be keeping you safe.” He turned at the waist and indicated the garrison in a brief gesture. “You think I can focus on leading all these soldiers if you’re here, constantly in danger?”

The worst part of his argument was that he had a point. It wasn’t that he was being unreasonable in barring Anduin from taking action, he was pointing out that Anduin would only be underfoot if he stayed. He was a distraction, he would only get in the way. Anduin lowered his head, feeling his shoulders tense up against his will. “Isn’t there anything I can do to help?” he asked. “This whole mess is at least partly my fault, it’s only fair that I help clean it up.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Varian snapped angrily. Then his eyes widened when he realized his mistake, and he shook his head. “I’m not angry at you, Anduin. I know you were only trying to do the right thing. But right now, the right thing is to go home. As the heir to the throne, your job is to keep yourself safe in case anything happens to me.”

Another way of saying _sit still and don’t do anything_. Anduin hadn’t spent years finding his calling, studying on his own, and exploring new lands just to be told that none of it mattered and he still couldn’t contribute to the success of the Alliance in any meaningful way. “I’ll go,” he said, “but I have some conditions.” He folded his hands in his lap and stared calmly at Varian, hoping to convey that the compromise he was offering would be the best that his father would get without a fight.

“Oh?” Varian raised an eyebrow. Anduin thought that he probably already had a good idea of what those conditions might be. “What kind of conditions?”

“I want to stay here, at Lunarfall, until I know that Ner’zhul has been taken care of.” Anduin could see Varian already gearing up to protest, so he kept talking. With his father, it was important to get your entire point in before he could shoot it down. “Even if I can’t help with the real fighting, anyone who gets sent into the crypts to take him down will need healing when they come back. It’s the least I can do.”

“You’ll be safer in Stormwind,” Varian said. “We have other healers here, there’s no need for you to stay.” He was still pressing, but he was wavering, trying not to make Anduin feel walled in.

“It’s safe here too,” Anduin replied. “Some of the best fighters in the Alliance army are stationed here. I won’t even leave the grounds, I promise.” Varian needed to see how sincere he was. This was his bare minimum, if he couldn’t get his father to agree to at least this then things were worse than he’d thought. “Please, father. I know an extra healer can always find something to do, and I want to help.”

Varian still suspected he was pulling some kind of trick. He was looking at Anduin like he expected him to throw a smoke bomb and disappear into the wilderness at any moment. “You’ll stay in your room or within sight of the town center at all times,” he said. “If for any reason you need to go elsewhere inside the garrison, you’ll bring a guard with you.”

“Agreed,” said Anduin, as mildly as he could. That was more restrictive than he’d hoped for, but he could work with it. This wasn’t even his most important request, the idea was just to get his father on a track of agreeing with him. “

“All right.” Varian leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “What else?”

He had to pick his words carefully. Looking out across the pond at the fishermen setting up for the day in their fishing hut, Anduin considered how to start. One thing he knew was that it never hurt to make people feel appreciated. “Thank you for saying that it’s not my fault everything went badly,” he said. “I’m glad to hear you don’t blame me. What I’d like to ask from you is that you give Wrathion that same consideration. If it wasn’t my fault, then it wasn’t his fault either.”

Varian reacted badly to that, as Anduin had known he would. He was shaking his head before Anduin even finished his sentence, and when he spoke there was a tremor of anger in his voice. “Stop trying to defend him, Anduin. It _was_ his fault, and I’m going to keep doing whatever I feel is necessary to stop him from doing any more damage.”

Anduin sighed loudly, and with more temper than he’d intended. “Tell me where the two of us did anything differently,” he said, spreading his arms out in a silent invitation. “We both hid out in a cave with Kairoz and the Infinite Dragonflight, I went down to the dungeons with him, I set Garrosh free with him, I left Azeroth with him. The only difference is that I’m your son, and you’re determined to hate him because he’s a black dragon.”

“That is not the only difference.” Varian pressed his hand to his eyes, still shaking his head. “He was the orchestrator. I can’t blame you for getting caught up in it, but it was his plan to begin with. That’s not something that I can just forgive like that.”

“ _Kairoz_ was the orchestrator.” Anduin fell back against the tree with a loud thud. “I told you that yesterday. Wrathion got caught up in it too. His priorities are a little strange, I’ll admit that, and he gets fixated on certain ideas so that he can’t see their flaws, but he really does have good intentions.” If he could at least get Wrathion and his father to stop openly threatening each other, he would consider that a victory. “Just let him help. He has spies and fighters, and if you don’t let him get involved he’ll find something else to do with them. He gets bored when there’s nothing for him to do, and then he worries that he needs to do something anyway, and that’s when he makes bad decisions.”

Varian looked up into the branches of the tree above them, ground his teeth together, and sighed. His fingers tapped on his armor while he thought. Anduin wished he could read minds, and find out what Varian was thinking and what he could say to influence it. He distracted himself by watching a fish swim lazy circles in the pond. Fish didn’t have complicated problems, all they had to worry about was being hooked, reeled up, and eaten. It must be nice.

“I don’t believe it,” Varian said at last. “I don’t trust him, and I think he has motives he’s not telling you. I won’t wipe the slate clean, he’s done too much for that. But if I have to bite my tongue and treat him politely so you’ll agree to go home, then all right. I’ll do my best. He can stay, under supervision, and he can help if it’s real help. The moment I catch him doing anything else, he’ll be facing the full force of Alliance justice.”

Better than he’d hoped for, at least. Anduin nodded quietly, and waited to see if his father had anything else to say. When a few minutes had gone by, he got up and started walking back toward the garrison. Varian watched him go, but didn’t follow him.

* * *

 

  _Be nicer to Wrathion_. He could do that. It would be hard, but he could. Just like meeting with Horde leaders, Varian told himself. Be brief, don’t say anything that could be used against you, and make sure to keep an eye on your back. His first test came a while later, when he was able to tear himself away from the quiet pond and walked down the path toward the town hall. Anduin hadn’t gone back to the inn, the way Varian had assumed he would. He was sitting by the fountain, talking to Wrathion and watching the soldiers at their morning training. Varian frowned. He’d said Anduin could go anywhere within sight of the town hall, but he hadn’t said that Wrathion was allowed to go with him.

Anduin was laughing about something, he wasn’t close enough to hear their conversation. As he approached, Wrathion looked up and saw him. The smile instantly slid from his face, replaced with a tense, guarded expression. “Good morning.”

Varian opened his mouth to tell Wrathion that he’d be better off bothering someone else, but stopped when Anduin shot him a look. The words died in his throat, and he coughed quietly to dislodge them. “What are you up to?” Perhaps not the most polite of greetings, but he had intended for it to sound curious more than intimidating.

“Waiting for you.” Wrathion stood up, brushing nonexistant specks of dirt from his coat, perhaps trying to deflect attention from his obvious lie. “My agent traveling to the crypts sent me a status report, and I thought you might like to hear it. Anduin told me you were out on a walk, so I thought I would stay here until you returned.”

“Go ahead, then.” After traveling for only a few hours Varian knew there would be nothing new for the scouts to report, nor would it be realistic for a message to reach back to the garrison in that time, but he was interested to see what nonsense Wrathion would come up with.

Wrathion nodded, reaching into a pocket to draw out a small red stone. “It occurs to me that you might not be familiar with these. I enchant them with a spell that allows me to communicate back and forth with anyone who carries one. All my agents have them, as do a few independent hires.” He held it up so it sparkled in the light, then stored it back in his pocket. “Very convenient, faster and more secure than sending messages on paper. Left tells me that they’re making good time, but the gryphons that they’re using stand out too much to take them in close, so they’ll be landing soon, leaving them at a safe location, and proceeding on foot.”

Annoying, if true. Varian had sent a pair of gryphons with the scouts specifically so that they could reach their destination quickly and escape more easily if need be. “I’d rather they keep the gryphons,” he said. “They might need them.”

“Left has never failed me yet, but I’ll tell her.” Wrathion shrugged. “It doesn’t matter either way to me. She said they were passing over a large orc settlement, but that it looked completely uninhabited, so there probably isn’t much they can do from the surface. For any valuable information, they’ll have to go down into the crypts themselves, and there’s a limit to how useful a gryphon would be down there. That’s all.” He turned back to Anduin without so much as a pause for Varian to process that he’d ended the conversation. “You were saying something about breakfast?”

“Ah… right.” Anduin glanced up at Varian, clearly uncomfortable. “Um, I was saying that inn will probably have more choices if you wait for the cook to start working, rather than, uh, breaking into the dry stores. The kitchen in the inn opens later than the one in the barracks.”

Varian decided that he didn’t want to know the details of why Anduin felt it necessary to have this conversation. Forget supervision, it would be better to have Wrathion put on a leash. “Keep in touch with your spy,” he said to the back of Wrathion’s head. “Let me know immediately if she finds anything unusual.” He couldn’t even tell if Wrathion was listening to him, and he didn’t know if it was worth trying to get his attention back.

That question got answered for him a second later, as Khadgar appeared out of nowhere next to his shoulder and Varian had to fight back the very unmanly impulse to yell and push him. “You’re an Archmage,” he said at a volume approaching a shout. “You should know better than to teleport right up to someone. I’m carrying a sword.”

Yes, yes, sorry about that, would you come with me for a moment?” Khadgar looked around, noticed Anduin, and gave him a brief nod before looking back at Varian. A moment later his eyes were wandering again, inspecting everything within sight. Varian tried to follow his gaze but couldn’t keep up.

Something was wrong. Varian’s eyes narrowed, and he saw Anduin go very still next to him. Even Wrathion, who was still miming complete distraction, was obviously trying to listen in. “Go back inside,” Varian said to Anduin. “Bring him if you have to.” He jabbed a finger at Wrathion, as if there was any question who he meant. “Get the food you were talking about it, and don’t worry. Whatever’s happened, I’ll handle it.” Turning back to Khadgar, he nodded. “Lead the way.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ending makes sense to me, and hopefully to everyone else, but my grandmother had to go to the hospital this morning and I'm a little worried so it might be less organized than I think. I'm trying to keep time moving at a consistent speed, but let me know if I accidentally create any errors.
> 
> Also PSA I will probably change my pen name on here soon. Don't freak out when it happens.

Apparently, whatever needed his attention could not wait for him to walk there. Varian only had a moment to prepare when Khadgar grabbed his elbow, and then he was pulled into a teleport spell. When his vision cleared and the ringing faded from his ears, he found himself in a small room containing a table, a pair of chairs, Jaina, and not much else. He didn’t think they had left the garrison, but knowing mages, they could be anywhere. “Where did you take me?” he asked, reaching for one of the chairs with a somewhat unkingly wobble.

“Not far,” Khadgar answered. “We’re in the basement of the Lunarall mage tower. Easier to trace magic when you’re closer to the conduit, and in this case the conduit we’re most interested in is under the ground.” He tapped his staff on the floor for emphasis. “Archmage Proudmoore and I have been monitoring the flow of energy in Shadowmoon Valley closely ever since we noticed discrepancies, and earlier today we felt a large power surge. It might be nothing, but, well, I’ll let her finish explaining.” Stepping off to the side, he nodded politely at Jaina.

Upon closer inspection, Varian could see that neither of them had been getting enough rest. Khadgar’s hair was untidy, and Jaina was leaning up against the wall to keep herself steady. All the same, she spoke with her usual determination. “We thought it was suspicious that so much energy would be sent out of the valley at a time like this, so I used the same spell that I used to trace Anduin to see if I could reach Taylor’s garrison, or at least contact the adventurers you sent out that way.” She paused, frowning, obviously worried but taking care not to alarm him an undue amount. “I haven’t managed to find them yet, and maybe I performed the spell wrong, but it looks like the garrison is empty.”

Impossible, Varian thought. As far as he knew, none of Jaina’s spellwork had failed in years. Even more unthinkable, however, was the notion of an entire garrison full of people vanishing without a trace. “Are there any ways it could have failed that would make the garrison seem abandoned?” he asked. If Jaina was even suggesting it then there must be, however remote the possibility.

“Of course,” Khadgar said, but he sounded doubtful. “If there was a problem during the cast, or if the mage in question did not put enough energy into it, then that’s one of the effects that might occur. We don’t really go to the places we send arcane projections to, after all, so if the spell was disrupted it would change what we saw. Once Jaina has her energy back she’s going to try the spell again, and if she still sees the garrison as empty I’m going to try it. That way we can be sure.”

Varian nodded. “How long until you feel ready to try again, Jaina?” The answer, he felt, would surely be quite a while. She and Khadgar must have been taking it in shifts to watch the ley line every minute of the day, it looked as though she had barely slept since arriving in Lunarfall.

“Just a few minutes.” Sitting down in the chair opposite him, Jaina let out a long sigh. Then she looked up and gave him a small, tired smile. “I know what you’re thinking, but there really isn’t any time to rest. If something really has happened, it’s important that we confirm it as quickly as possible.”

“Be careful,” Varian warned her. “It’s also important that we have the ability to act if something is wrong. We can’t have our best magic users burn themselves out before the real action starts.” He sat back in the chair and tried not to look impatient, willing his toes not to tap and his hands to stay still. “Don’t feel like you need to push yourselves past your limits.”

That warning, he knew, would briefly register with both mages as something that perhaps they should listen to, but ultimately they would ignore it. Overwork was a state of being for most high ranking members of the Kirin Tor. Varian couldn’t even judge them for it, he himself had similar habits. There was a reason he got along so well with the two of them, despite only understanding every third word of their technical explanations.

“I’m fine, but thank you for making sure.” Just as he’d predicted, Jaina finished her cup of water and stood right back up, ready to keep on pushing her powers to their limits in the service of the Alliance. She stretched her arms out and took on the stance and slight frown that meant she was concentrating very hard on an upcoming spell. “Clear a space, and don’t make noise.”

Varian did not take orders from anyone, but from friends he would take requests. Especially when there was magic involved. He didn’t need to be told twice to get out of the way. Pushing his chair back, he vacated the area around the table, going to stand with Khadgar at the edge of the room. From there he watched with fascination as Jaina began channeling her spell, speaking the strange arcane words as comfortably as if they were plain Common and then standing unnaturally still as the magic rushed through her. The spell as Varian understood it would show her a vision of the world at Admiral Taylor’s garrison, one that she could see with perfect accuracy and would allow her to speak to anyone she encountered, but where her ability to interact with her surroundings was limited. Almost like she was a ghost. He wondered for a moment what that might be like, and decided that he wouldn’t like it. Even if it would be useful, he would hate to have so much power taken from him.

The time he had to consider all that was limited, as Jaina ended the spell within minutes. She dropped back into her chair, breathing hard, sweat forming on her forehead. Varian held his tongue and forced himself to remain patient and allow her to recover before jumping right into questioning. Despite his restraint he leaned forward slightly, waiting for her to speak. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the movement of Khadgar doing the same. Jaina wiped her forehead on her sleeve, took a few slow breaths, and then sighed, slumping down into her seat. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I still don’t see anybody.” She shook her head. “I’m sure I said the incantation wrong but I must have made some kind of mistake.”

Varian looked at Khadgar, who raised his eyebrows and looked back. Neither of them believed that Jaina had managed to make the same mistake twice in her spellcasting but both of them desperately hoped that she had. Khadgar cleared his throat to cut into the uncomfortable silence. “I suppose it’s my turn then,” he said conversationally. “I’ll see you both in a few minutes.” He flourished with his staff in a way that Varian was sure was entirely unnecessary, then began chanting. Varian could not understand the words, but he could tell that Khadgar recited them in exactly the way Jaina had. He sank into the channeling with a practiced ease, sending an impression that he was simply taking an upright nap rather than handling dangerous amounts of arcane power.

“What does it mean if he can’t find anyone either?” Varian asked Jaina, more to make conversation than out of a genuine desire to know. Standing around in a dim room while one person entered a trance felt inappropriate somehow. Sort of like watching someone talk in their sleep. If Khadgar moved or reacted to anything he saw then witnessing it would make Varian no better than a common spy.

“I’d love to tell you.” Jaina shook her head, then lowered it to rest on her folded arms. “The best case scenario would be that the garrison really is abandoned, and that those who left are still alive somewhere. For obvious reasons, that’s unlikely.” She waited for his answering nod before continuing. “It could also mean someone is interfering with spellwork in that area, sending out a distorted signal. That would mean that something has happened which Ner’zhul doesn’t want us to know about. I don’t know about you, but I can think of plenty of things he might be trying to hide from us.”

Varian could too. He cringed and turned away, suddenly unwilling to know the truth and tempted to leave before Khadgar broke out of his trance. The stairs were only a few feet away, he could be back in the safety of his room at the inn before Khadgar’s spell was half done. Without his responsibilities as king weighing him down he would have done it, but one of the worst parts of his job was that he needed to see all of the things he was meant to be protecting his people from. He slowly turned back around and edged away from the stairs, finding a spot safely distant from Khadgar and lowering himself down to sit cross legged on the floor while we waited. The second chair was open, but sometimes he needed to feel solid ground underneath him. The sound of channeled magic was deceptively soothing, lulling him into a drowsy trance while he waited for what would undoubtedly be bad news.

* * *

 

 When Khadgar grabbed Varian and disappeared, Anduin’s reaction was far more subdued than Wrathion would have thought it would be. He blinked, staring at the place where his father had been up until just that moment, then sighed. “I hope everything is okay.” They’d been told to go inside but he made no move to get up, turning to look down at the rippling water in the fountain.

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” Wrathion said. If Varian Wrynn expected to be kept informed about the activities of his scouts, then he would have to meet Wrathion halfway and fill him in on any news he received from his own sources.

Anduin sighed again and his face fell. “Maybe you will.” His feet kicked against the side of the fountain a few times, then he stood up. “Come on, let’s go.” He moved off toward the inn at a slow pace, practically dragging his feet on the ground. Wrathion sat a moment more, watching him go with a frown. Although Anduin had been happy to see him that morning, he’d been having moments like this where something Wrathion said or did seemed to make him sad. Something was obviously wrong, but Wrathion couldn’t tell if he’d done something or if it was something beyond his control. He followed a few steps behind Anduin, making sure to keep his distance. If there was something he could do, Anduin would tell him.

Keeping a close eye on Anduin once they got inside the inn was challenging, and not just because the dining area was packed full of mercenaries competing for their breakfast. Anduin didn’t seem to want to be observed, he kept ducking around Wrathion under the pretense of getting out of the way of the other guests milling about. It was starting to worry Wrathion. Normally Anduin didn’t mind when he watched him. He might get embarrassed by the attention, but it had never bothered him before. Wrathion knew that he had been talking to his father earlier that morning, so he could only assume that the change in Anduin’s behavior was related to that. Maybe Varian had noticed them spending time together, become suspicious of how close they were. He didn’t feel like Anduin was avoiding him, just that he was backing off.

No matter the cause for it, he didn’t like it. His heart sank every time Anduin pulled away from him or moved out of his line of sight with a polite smile. Even when they were safely in Anduin’s room, breakfast finished and talking, Anduin seemed to shrink from him every time he smiled or tried to move closer. Trying to draw him into an argument didn’t work either, he just got quiet. Wrathion had been expecting Anduin to tell him what was wrong once they were alone, but it was looking like he might have to ask.

“Am I upsetting you?” The words came out a little clumsily, he hoped Anduin would forgive him for that. It was difficult to be precise when he knew that Anduin was upset, and even more so when he didn’t know quite why. He did not truly believe that Anduin’s problem was with him, in the past he had never been shy about informing Wrathion when that was the case. All the same, it was better to cover his bases. If the issue was with his behavior, that could be addressed much more easily than anything else.

Anduin looked up at him, which was an improvement over gazing forlornly out the window. “No, of course not.” He offered Wrathion a smile, slight but genuine, and turned his chair around to face him. “I’m sorry if I’m being depressing. You know I talked to my father earlier, so I guess I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“You said he wasn’t angry with you,” Wrathion said. He had suspected that Anduin was lying about that part, there was no way that Varian Wrynn would not be angry about his son running away, but he hadn’t truly thought that it would be a problem. “Did he say something bad? Or hurt you?” Getting up from his perch at the foot of Anduin’s bed he took a step forward, looking Anduin over with a more thorough gaze. He didn’t look hurt, but Wrathion was not as relaxed about Varian’s temper as Anduin seemed to be.

“No he didn’t _hurt_ me Wrathion, calm down.” Anduin sighed. “He’s not the sort of person you take him for.” He turned back to the window, and Wrathion thought that maybe he wasn’t going to say anything else. When he did speak, it was so quiet that Wrathion could barely hear him. “I told him that I would go back.”

Back. Back to Azeroth, back to Stormwind. Wrathion had been aware that this would happen eventually, and probably sooner rather than later, but having it suddenly come up in the road ahead was still jarring. Being prepared for the idea of Anduin leaving and being prepared for the reality of it were very different things, especially since they had become so close. It was a feeling not unlike panic, and Wrathion had to close his eyes and remind himself to breathe slowly. “What about me?” he asked. His mouth was dry and his voice sounded horrible to his ears, ragged and harsh. They were supposed to be together, to work as a team. How could they do that if Anduin went back to Stormwind, a place where Wrathion was not welcome?

“I’d offer to bring you with me, but I don’t think you’d like it there.” Anduin made only the most cursory effort to make it sound lighthearted. “Are you angry?” It sounded like he expected anger, but Wrathion wasn’t certain he was feeling anything.

“No,” he said, his voice ringing hollow in his ears. “Does that mean you don’t want…” he stopped, unsure of how to finish the sentence. He had only just begun to sort out his feelings for Anduin, and although it was difficult he didn’t want to have to stop short of resolving anything. “Should I go away? Do you not want me with you?” Even as the words left his mouth he knew it was a horrible thing to ask. Anduin was already shaking his head, looking stricken.

“Of course I still want to be with you,” he said, getting up from his chair to wrap his arms around Wrathion for a tight hug. “I don’t want to go back home, I want to stay here and keep you out of trouble, but I had to promise my father I would go back.”

“I can keep myself out of trouble,” Wrathion complained, resting his head on Anduin’s shoulder and feeling the soft strands of his hair brush against his face. “It’s you I’m worried about. Large human settlements can be terribly dangerous, you know.” He wasn’t sure himself whether or not he was joking, but when Anduin’s breath left him in a rough approximation of a laugh he decided he must be. “When do you have to go?”

“Could be any time.” Anduin pulled back from the hug but reached out to hold Wrathion’s hands in his own. “My father said I could stay until the fight with Ner’zhul is over, but I don’t know how long these things take.”

Not long, Wrathion assumed. They knew where Ner’zhul was hiding and they knew what kind of threat he presented. The only responsible course of action would be to strike as soon as possible. He hadn’t heard from Left in a few hours, but as soon as she could get him a detailed description of the crypts the planning could begin in earnest for an assault. It could even happen that day if the scouts worked quickly. His time with Anduin was now running toward a deadline, much more quickly than he’d anticipated. “Will I still be able to see you?” he asked, frantic to find some way to handle the separation. “I’m still on wanted posters in Stormwind. If I came to visit I’d run the risk of being arrested.”

“I’m working on that.” Anduin squeezed his hands reassuringly, but he looked just as upset as Wrathion felt. “My father does change his mind about things, it just takes him a long time. He needs to be convinced that you’re not secretly plotting his downfall.”

Which would only happen if Wrathion was allowed to participate in the war effort on equal terms, which would never happen because Varian Wrynn did not trust him. Wrathion felt the urge to growl and managed to quell it only because he did not want to growl in Anduin’s face. Throwing a fit would be counterproductive, he needed to think of a way around the seemingly insurmountable restrictions that had been placed on him. Something he could use to show that he was indispensible, that he could be a valuable ally if only he wasn’t treated like a prisoner waiting for execution.

Anduin interrupted his thoughts by waving a hand in front of his eyes. “You don’t have to come up with a solution today,” he said. “It isn’t like I’ll be leaving tomorrow. Have you had a chance to talk to Khadgar? He might be more willing to work with you than my father or Jaina.”

Wrathion had thought about it, and agreed with Anduin’s general assessment. Khadgar was polite to him, although his personality was grating, and he had no reason to hold a personal bias against Wrathion. The trouble he had encountered was that he hardly ever saw Khadgar. From conversations he’d overheard around the garrison, it seemed that he was the only one with this particular problem. Khadgar was everywhere, apparently. Since their arrival he’d been lending out his powers to enchant armor, reinforce structures, and advise the mages running a portal atop their tower on their energy use. He appeared wherever he was needed, sometimes before anyone thought to call for him. In light of this, Wrathion had no choice but to assume Khadgar was deliberately avoiding him. “I don’t think he wants to speak to me,” he told Anduin.

“Will you try anyway?” Anduin asked him, and Wrathion could only nod mutely in agreement. Tracking down a mage who did not want to be found was no simple task, but since Anduin was the one asking he felt like he could do it a hundred times over without complaining.

* * *

 

He got his chance a few hours later. Unwilling to let him leave on a bad note, Anduin had turned the inn upside down and produced an old and battered chess set, with creases in the board and several pieces missing. Wrathion was not especially fond of chess, finding it not a true test of wits but more a test of one’s ability to memorize common patterns, but Anduin had insisted that they play a few rounds despite the set’s flaws. It had been far too long since they’d been able to sit and play together in a well-guarded room where they could feel reasonably safe, and Wrathion found himself having a good time even with Anduin’s upcoming departure hanging over him like a dark cloud. He left in much higher spirits, and as he was walking back to his own quarters to check in with Right he saw Khadgar and Varian returning to the town center from wherever they had been.

Remembering his promise to Anduin, he altered his course to meet them. “Archmage, do you think I could have a word with you?” he called once he was within hailing distance.

Khadgar’s eyes widened and he actually looked frightened for a moment, causing Wrathion to hastily revise his opinion that the archmage was not afraid of him. He recovered after only a second, and smiled back. “Of course, of course you can, but King Varian was actually just looking for you. Can I give you a rain check?”

Wrathion looked from Khadgar to Varian, raising his eyebrows curiously. While his presence was occasionally called for, it was still a noteworthy occasion to be sought out by the king of Stormwind. It was also certainly something to be suspicious about. “What can I do for you, your majesty?”

He thought he had done a very good job of regulating his tone so as not to sound sarcastic or aggressive, but he might as well have insulted all the ancestors of every member of Stormwind’s royal line from the way Varian’s face darkened. “Those spies of yours that you’ve been claiming you have,” he said without any pause for context. “Where are they?”

Was he being accused of placing spies in the garrison? Varian’s face was impossible to read, he could be genuinely angry at Wrathion, angry at something else, or just acting. Wrathion glanced at Khadgar to try and get some hint as to what was going on only to find that he had gone, presumably teleported himself away while Wrathion wasn’t focusing on him. He looked back at Varian and reminded himself to keep his cool. They had nothing on him, he had no spies here and could easily prove it if he had to. “The main force is in the Spires of Arak,” he said calmly. “They’re caring for a small number of runaways from Taylor’s garrison, which I am sure I told you about earlier. A smaller group is headed up to Nagrand. Unless you count Left and Right, whose whereabouts you are already aware of, that’s all. I lost quite a few recruits before coming here. Why do you ask?”

“How close to the garrison are they?” Varian asked. “If you ordered, could they be there within a day?”

On foot the answer would be no. The team of Blacktalons had been steadily marching away from the garrison for days. However, despite his reservations, Wrathion had allowed them to keep their ‘tame’ rylak for emergency transport. A trip to the garrison by air by would only take a few hours. “It would be possible,” he said, “but before I call in orders for a trip back I will need to know why. I am not in the habit of sending my agents into potentially dangerous areas without giving them all the details available to me.”

“Everyone’s dead,” Varian said flatly. “What I need is someone to tell me how and why. Can you do that for me, or not?”

Wrathion’s head spun with confusion. They couldn’t all be dead. Left was spying in the Shadowmoon crypts right this moment, and she hadn’t noticed any unusual activity among the warlocks there. It was impossible that Ner’zhul could have made even the slightest attempt to kill an entire garrison at a distance without giving some sign of it, let alone actually pull it off. “How do you know?” he asked. Someone must have made a mistake.

“Khadgar and Jaina.” Varian obviously resented having to waste time on an explanation, because he spoke so fast that Wrathion had trouble understanding him. “They sensed something happen and have been trying to contact the garrison, but couldn’t find anyone. Apparently it’s because the only people left there are ghosts.” He paused briefly to shudder. “On his last attempt Khadgar managed to find a surviving member of the adventure party I sent out that way weeks ago. He’s alive but badly injured, and when he saw Khadgar he thought it was another ghost and could not speak about what he saw. I need you to send someone alive out that way to pick him up, treat his wounds, and find out what happened. Can you do that?”

It was a question with only one possible answer. If Wrathion said no, Varian would find a way to make it yes or there would be hell to pay. Wrathion nodded. “I’ll get someone on it right away.” One of his worgen agents perhaps, someone with keen tracking abilities who could manage themselves in a fight. Then he would have to inform Left, and she would need to somehow account for having missed something so significant.

“Good.” Varian spun on his heel, waving a hand to dismiss him. “Go and do that now, and I’ll expect an update from you as soon as you have something for me. Until then, stay out of my way. I need to go tell Anduin what’s happened, and the Light only knows how he’ll handle it.”

Anduin would be devasted. The force of that realization hit Wrathion harder than the news of the disaster itself. Anduin, who had resisted leaving the garrison for days out of worry that exactly this kind of thing would happen if he left, would think that all these deaths were his fault. “You’re going to tell him now?” Wrathion blurted out, following on Varian’s heels. “You’re not going to wait until we understand what happened?” Anduin would have to be told eventually, but he was already upset today over having to go back home. This would be exponentially worse than that.

“He would want to know right away,” Varian answered, looking back over his shoulder at Wrathion with a stern glare. “And it’s none of your business what I do and do not tell him. Right now your business is to get a scout out there while I take care of my son. He’s going to be very upset, and you don’t need to be involved.”

Wrathion bit his tongue to keep the argument that he _did_ need to be involved from escaping. Which would be worse, leaving Anduin to process the tragedy on his own, or allowing the simmering tension between himself and Varian to erupt back into open hostility? He knew which route he _wanted_ to take. It was like every cell in his body was pulling toward Anduin’s room, begging him to go there and curl himself around Anduin even though he could not actually do anything to protect him from this. On the other hand, he also knew which route Anduin would want him to take. He would say that his feelings weren’t as important as keeping the peace.

A compromise, he decided. He would take care of his errand and allow Varian some time to speak with Anduin alone. After that, he would go himself and see if there was anything he could do to minimize the hurt. There was no way that Varian could reasonably deny him the chance to see Anduin, so long as he had done everything that had been asked of him and Anduin wanted to see him. “I’ll have a report for you by nightfall,” he said, and stood there feeling ill for several minutes after Varian walked away. 


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late everyone, had a busy week! Would not recommend trying to write an entire chapter in two days, it's not very fun.

His business with the Blacktalon camp was conducted swiftly, as always. Wrathion was pleased to see that they hadn’t become lazy in his absence. They had hiked a farther distance from the garrison than he had expected, given the soldiers they had tagging along with them. Nevertheless, the representative he’d spoken with had assured him that they would send the fastest among them back to pick up the adventurer Jaina had encountered and learn his story. They promised to have answers for him in only a few hours, and he believed them. He hired only the best, after all. If they made a promise to him they followed through on it.

When he left his quarters again he noticed that Lunarfall had become subdued. News spread quickly, it seemed. Somebody must have found out that a fellow outpost had fallen to dark forces and informed the residents. Most had gone inside, following an innate drive to take shelter in the face of an enemy with unknown powers. Others still milled about, talking quietly amongst each other and casting nervous looks around them. Wrathion wound his way through the town center, keeping well clear of any such groups. As a newcomer to the garrison he would automatically be labeled a suspicious individual even without his heritage to contend with. He would combat rumors with action, and show these frightened rabbits what a truly powerful fighter looked like. But first, he had something more important to attend to.

Flying up to Anduin’s window, he saw that the curtains were drawn. That was a problem. Anduin was inside, that he knew for sure, but without a clear view into the room he had no idea who else might be there. At the very least, there was a good chance that King Varian was there as well. It wouldn’t help his reputation any to be caught climbing through the Crown Prince’s bedroom window while his father was just inside. He would have to go in through the front, although it would mean making his way through the large, scared crowd no doubt gathered there. A part of him considered going back the way he came, finding Khadgar, and making him explain why he was so difficult to track down. That could wait until later, however. His own standing within the Alliance would be a long-term project, Wrathion suspected. An apology letter and a helping hand here and there would not be enough. More pressing at the moment was the matter of Anduin.

The door on Anduin’s room was seldom locked, but considering the circumstances Wrathion felt it would be polite to knock. He barely felt the wood under his knuckles, too preoccupied with what he might say when he was inside. It was unlikely that there would be anything he could do to provide real comfort, but he felt that he had to try. Ignoring Anduin’s grief was out of the question.

“Who is it?” The voice on the other side of the door was gruff and threatening. So King Varian was here, as Wrathion had thought he might be.

He wouldn’t say that he was happy to have Varian as an obstacle, but it was good to know that there had been somebody with Anduin. “It’s me,” he replied. “May I come in?”

“Now is not a good time.” Varian’s tone was firm and left no room for argument.

Luckily, Wrathion did not have to argue. He stood in the hallway for a moment, waiting patiently, and his heart lifted when he heard Anduin speak quietly from farther back in the room. “It’s okay father, let him in.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know if-” Varian became inaudible, moving away from the door and speaking almost in a whisper. Wrathion leaned forward slightly to listen, but still couldn’t pick out the words. It turned out not to matter, because a minute later Varian’s footsteps sounded in front of the door again and he pulled it open to wave Wrathion inside.

Anduin was sitting on the end of his bed, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and papers strewn all around him. He wiped his eyes on the blanket when Wrathion came in, a futile attempt to hide that he had been crying. “You heard,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, so Wrathion didn’t answer. “I came to see if there was anything I could do,” he said, taking a few careful steps toward Anduin. “I understand that you have just suffered a loss.” he glanced at Varian, wondering how he could say what he meant without sounding insincere. “I am not familiar with grief, but if you need anything…”

“Stay here?” Anduin asked. He cast a doubtful look first at Wrathion, then at Varian. “I’d like you both with me for a while, if you can tolerate each other.”

For Anduin, the list of things Wrathion would not tolerate was shrinking by the day. “Of course,” he said, sitting carefully next to Anduin on the bed. “I’ll stay for as long as you like.” His mental calculations about how close he could sit without angering Varian proved to be worthless, as Anduin leaned across the papers between them to hug him as soon as he sat down.

Varian’s stare was stone. “I’ll stay as long as I can,” he said. “But unlike some people, I am busy and have a schedule that I can’t deviate from. I’m supposed to be back in Stormwind to brief new recruits in,” he checked his pocketwatch, “one hour.” Tucking the watch away again, he grabbed a chair.

Wrathion grabbed a few of the papers lying near his leg and started stacking them, unsure what they were but knowing that they were probably important. Anduin wouldn’t want important things to get crumpled by mistake. “What’s all this?” he asked, as much to deflect Varian’s scrutiny as to satisfy his own curiosity. “I hope I didn’t interrupt something important.”

“They’re military reports, mostly.” Anduin took the top page off the stack and looked at it sadly. “Written by Admiral Taylor, along with some letters he sent me and Father. We thought it might be nice to look through them and remember him. His personality was always very clear, even in these routine things.”

Wrathion took a closer look at the papers in his hands. They were all written in the same tidy script, making it easy for him to see what Anduin was talking about. Taylor had been a man with strong opinions about many things, and his reports were peppered with personalized footnotes. He briefly wondered if any of the papers made mention of him, then realized that Taylor had probably not survived long enough to make a formal report about holding him and Anduin in the garrison. The thought was oddly sobering. “I only met him briefly,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation to gather his thoughts. “I suppose I wasn’t very familiar with him as the man you knew. Would you tell me about him?”

Anduin gave him a small, grateful smile and took the rest of the papers from his hands. “It might take a while. I’ve known Admiral Taylor since I was a kid.”

That smile was a victory, Wrathion saved it away in his memory. “I’m glad to listen.”

* * *

 

 A lesser known talent of Anduin’s, which he had always been inordinately embarrassed about, was that he was a wonderful storyteller. He attributed it to the amount of reading he did, but Varian was more inclined to chalk it up to natural talent. Listening to Anduin tell a story was like remembering something that he hadn’t ever seen. He had heard most of the stories before, save for a few tales from Anduin’s early exploration in Pandaria, but he was pulled in just as effectively as if he’d been hearing them for the first time. Admiral Taylor had been mostly a field operator, but he had always made time to say hello when he was in Stormwind. Varian only wished that it could have happened more frequently. He’d always anticipated that Taylor would eventually retire with distinction and become one of the old veterans who hung around the barracks intimidating trainees. It was only a small blessing that he hadn’t had any family for Varian to notify.

To his great surprise, Wrathion looked genuinely interested in the tales as well. _No_ , he corrected himself. _Not the tales_. It was Anduin that Wrathion was interested in. He was hanging on every word, but seemed to be focusing more on Anduin’s mood than on what he was saying. On a few occasions, when recalling certain habits of Taylor’s, Anduin had to stop speaking and blink back tears. Each time Varian saw Wrathion begin to reach out for him, then stop himself. It was a very slight motion, one that he wasn’t sure Wrathion was consciously aware of. He would assume that he was imagining things, but he trusted his own eyes.

He’d heard rumors, of course. As the king, it was his job to keep tabs on everything that was said about the royal family. It had started small, back before Hellscream’s trial. _The prince of Stormwind is spending a lot of time with that dragon_. That one came mostly from adventurers, people always on the lookout for trouble before it happened. When Anduin disappeared, after last being seen with a young man matching Wrathion’s description, that was when it really started to take off. Even the most rational-sounding variations had seemed too outlandish to have even a hint of truth. However, now Varian was wondering if they might have been on to something. His son certainly hadn’t run off to a hostile planet to marry his secret draconic lover or any such nonsense, but there was something suspicious in Wrathion’s behavior. He was being much too respectful, Varian sensed a motive.

He checked his watch again. Twenty minutes before the hour. Jaina would kill him if he gave her less than ten to open a portal back to Stormwind. His armor clattered against the chair as he stood up, drawing the attention of Wrathion and his son more effectively than he could have hoped to do with words. “I have to leave now,” he announced. “Before I go, Wrathion, can I have a word with you outside?”

“Yes, of course.” Wrathion scrambled to his feet and dusted off his coat, exchanging a confused look with Anduin. Varian didn’t offer any clarification. Either Wrathion knew what this was about, in which case his ignorance was feigned, or he didn’t, in which case there was no reason for Varian to be upset. Less of a reason, anyway. He would never be happy to see Wrathion hovering around his son.

Ushering Wrathion out into the hall, Varian shut the door behind them and looked around to see that they were alone. He gestured for Wrathion to follow him and walked a short distance down the hall. Listening at doors was Anduin’s specialty, and he didn’t need to hear this. He had considered bringing Wrathion to his own room to ensure that they wouldn’t be disturbed, but had thought better of it. It would not be a good idea to allow someone with such a strong affinity for the rogue lifestyle to be in close proximity to his belongings. Besides, the inn was quiet, most of the activity confined to the lower floor. Nobody would overhear.

“I haven’t heard anything yet from Left, or from my agents in the Spires,” Wrathion told him. “I can check again if you like but it hasn’t been very long.”

Was he trying to deflect Varian’s attention, or did he really have no idea what he’d been called out to discuss? Varian frowned at him. “That’s not what this is about.” He watched closely, but saw no signs of comprehension on Wrathion’s face. It would be easier if he had, then the conversation would feel less one-sided. There was no point in making allusions, so he decided to get right to the point. “What is my son to you?”

Wrathion’s eyes widened in surprise. Then he blinked and all expression dropped from his face, leaving it blank. “What do you mean?”

Varian wasn’t fooled. Wrathion was trying to gain control over the conversation, but he’d seen the initial reaction. He had Wrathion off balance. “I mean, what are you trying to do? You weren’t acting like yourself in there. Don’t think I didn’t notice. Acting considerate, watching every move he makes, touching him.” He took a breath to hold his temper together. “Anyone who didn’t know better might think you love him. Is this how you’ve managed to manipulate him into thinking you’re worth his time? By toying with his emotions, when he’s already been through so much? Or would you have me believe that you actually care for him?” Scorn burned at his throat as he delivered the last sentence. “I know better than that, dragon. I’m familiar with your kind and your tricks.”

His words had an impact, in exactly the way he’d expected them to. By the time he finished Wrathion was breathing hard, with his teeth bared and his eyes taking on an eerie glow. _Good_ , Varian thought. _Attack me. Show everyone your true colors_. But Wrathion did not attack. He curled one hand into a fist, digging his claws into the palm of the hand so hard that his gloves gave way underneath them and hissing when the points met bare flesh.

When Wrathion looked up again, his eyes were still burning but his expression was more controlled. He spoke with only a hint of a growl hanging onto his words. “I know your tricks too. You’ll do anything to convince yourself that I’m the monster you want to see.” Straightening his back, he closed his eyes and forced his shoulders down. Varian could see him shaking from the effort. “Do not try to dictate to me what I am feeling. I would trust anyone’s word on that before yours. Anduin is my friend, and I am not toying with him. He is important to me, and anything I do in his presence reflects that.” He opened his eyes back up and the glow had diminished.

Varian had to be impressed by Wrathion’s success at calming himself. He knew from years of experience how difficult it could be to seal up an eruption and continue to speak calmly. Wrathion did not want this to escalate into a fight, but Varian refused to believe that his motives for keeping the peace were as noble as he claimed. “You removed him from the safety of Stormwind and dragged him along with you on that wild scheme of yours,” he accused. “He could have lost his life. You put him in more danger than I can bear to think about, how is that the action of someone who cares for him?”

“He was miserable there,” Wrathion snapped. “That trial was important to him, and you sent him away over a temper tantrum. All I did was offer him a choice, after you took away all the ones he had. I wasn’t going to passively stand by and watch my best friend be robbed of his freedom.” He paced back and forth a few times and then stopped. “I wasn’t expecting him to come with me. I would undo all the danger I put him through if I could, but I did not force him into anything. I never force anyone to follow me. He could have gone home at any time, but he chose not to.”

“Of course he did.” Varian rolled his eyes. “On one hand, he could trek back through dangerous terrain, cross the lines of war, and come home to an argument. On the other hand, he could go on a senseless adventure. Anduin loves to explore, anyone could guess which one he would pick. If you really cared about him you would never have asked him to follow you in the first place.”

“I had to.” Wrathion fell back against the wall opposite Varian and sighed. “I don’t expect you’ll understand, but I was out of time and out of options and I didn’t want him to think I was abandoning Azeroth was no reason. Abandoning him especially, just when he seemed to need a friend the most. Perhaps I took it too far, but it felt like the right thing to do. Tell me what you would have done, in my position.” He fixed Varian with a challenging stare, daring him to say that he would have done something differently.

For the sake of argument, Varian took a moment to seriously consider the question. What would he have done? He didn’t think he knew enough about Wrathion to answer that. His personality was easy enough to assess, he wasn’t nearly as complicated as he seemed to think he was. It was his motives that Varian didn’t know. What had he been hoping to accomplish, and why had he decided that releasing Hellscream was the way to do it? He acted as if he had been working on a matter of great importance, but had never explained exactly what it was. “I don’t know what your position was,” he admitted. “I can’t tell you what I would do, but I am sure that it would be a more rational choice than kidnapping my only friend.”

Wrathion smiled at that, an amused smile. “I would be glad to explain my circumstances to you, but it would take me some time and I believe you have somewhere to be soon. In the meantime, may I propose a truce?” His smile took on an edge of irony to it. He was smart enough, then, to know that Varian would not blindly accept any compromise he offered. “I will assume that you have your son’s best interests in mind despite your past actions to the contrary, and will do my best to explain to you the pressures I was facing and the plan I had formulated at a later date. In exchange, I ask that you make an attempt to stop viewing me as some kind of diabolical villain. If I had any wish to harm Anduin, I would do so in a much more direct manner.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Varian sighed. He really did need to get to the mage tower soon. “There is no reason I should believe anything you say, dragon. However, I am willing to give you this opportunity to change your mind. Get your story straight, and make sure you can prove it. Take as much time as you want. I’ll be back from Stormwind in a few hours and you had better be back to your own quarters by then. If I find you still here, the deal is off.” He waited for an answering nod, making sure Wrathion had understood before leaving.

* * *

 

 “I think he’s starting to like me.” Wrathion gave Anduin a smile as he returned to the room. “Didn’t even threaten to kill me that time.” He crossed the room to collapse on Anduin’s bed with a thump, only pausing to sweep some of Taylor’s letters out of his way.

“That does sound like an improvement.” Anduin started to gather up the papers Wrathion had displaced. It was time to put everything back in order, Taylor would not have wanted him to spend an entire day wallowing in grief. It wasn’t productive, and he had a job as the Prince to help maintain the morale of the troops. “What did he want?” he asked, getting up to put the stack of paper away on the desk. His father would collect them all later, and re-file them back home in Stormwind.

Wrathion didn’t answer right away. He rolled so he was facing the wall opposite Anduin, and picked gently at the blanket underneath him. “He may have noticed,” he said at last, “that I was displaying a certain level of affection toward you. He took issue with that.”

Anduin tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Well, we knew this would happen,” he said. “Maybe it’s a little sooner than I’d expected, but I can handle it if you can.” Wrathion had said before that he was willing to navigate Varian’s disapproval, but that might have changed now that he’d run up against it firsthand. “Did he say anything really bad to you?”

“Oh, the usual.” Wrathion lifted one hand to gesture toward the ceiling. “As a black dragon, I am naturally predisposed to emotional manipulation, cruelty, and betrayal. He thinks I’ve made a game out of your feelings, does not believe me when I say that I care for you, and wants me out of your life.”

“Yeah, that’s about what I expected.” Anduin sighed and sat next to Wrathion’s legs, giving his knee a consoling pat. “I can talk to him when he gets back if you want. He probably has a lecture waiting for me me too.”

“No need.” Wrathion’s tone shifted and he lifted his head to look at Anduin, a smug grin lighting up his face. “I got him to agree that he’ll hear me out if I explain why I decided to come to Draenor, and why I asked you to come with me. He probably won’t believe a word I say, but maybe you can corroborate some of my statements.”

“How did you manage that?” Anduin asked, surprised. It had taken a huge amount of effort to get his father to agree that he wouldn’t openly threaten violence against Wrathion. He’d known that Wrathion was a good negotiator when he put his mind to it, but it had been a while since Anduin had seen him in action.

“No idea.” Wrathion pushed himself up onto his elbows. “I hear that significant losses can affect judgment, I hope I haven’t accidentally taken adventage. When I take advantage of things I like to know for sure that’s what I’m doing.” His face grew serious again and he looked at Anduin with the hard, analytical stare that he always took on when he was trying to figure out a difficult puzzle. “I’m sorry if it causes more problems, you already have too much to deal with.”

Anduin shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said. It sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. Wrathion raised his eyebrows in response. “Really,” Anduin insisted. He wasn’t fine, he was tired and cold and feeling so many emotions that they’d all rolled together into a mass deep down in his stomach, leaving him feeling numb, but the last thing he needed to do was add worry for Wrathion into that pile. “I really appreciate that you’re willing to work with my father, but you don’t have to put up with him if you don’t want to.” There were other, less challenging ways to improve Wrathion’s standing with the Alliance.

“I don’t mind.” Wrathion struggled a little to sit up, he must be feeling the effects of the exhaustion that had Anduin in its grip as well. “You love your father, so I feel that I should at least make an effort to get along. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by fighting with the most important person in your life. Especially right now.”

A piece broke off of the tightly packed mess of emotions, and without any warning Anduin found himself crying again. Wrathion’s face reflected panic, but he opened his arms to offer a hug and held Anduin tightly when he fell into them. Back when they’d met Anduin would have died before letting himself cry in front of Wrathion, now all he wanted was to push in closer and bury his face in Wrathion’s chest until the wave of emotions subsided. He could hear words being spoken, soft phrases that he could not hope to understand, and felt Wrathion’s hand running through his hair in a hesitant gesture of comfort. With Wrathion it was always best to pay attention to his actions rather than his words, and everything he was doing for Anduin spoke more about his feelings than he could manage even if he had hours to talk about them.

He stayed still even after the tears subsided and he could breathe again, letting Wrathion’s naturally high body temperature warm him through and listening to him speak in a language that Anduin now recognized as Draconic. It wasn’t Common, and he hadn’t heard anything that sounded like Orcish. He’d heard Wrathion use Draconic before to converse with Left and Right but he didn’t often use it. Only when he wanted to be absolutely certain that he would not be understood. There were sounds mixed in with the words that Anduin couldn’t imagine a human being able to make, trills and hisses that might have made the language sound alien and terrifying if he hadn’t heard it first coming from Wrathion’s mouth.

“What are you saying?” he asked when his curiosity couldn’t take it any more, reluctantly lifting his face out of the rough fabric of Wrathion’s tunic.

Wrathion stopped at once. “Nothing,” he replied, tightening the hug slightly. “Just talking to myself.”

Deciding not to pry, but already planning how he could get Wrathion to tell him later, Anduin sat up a little straighter and pulled Wrathion in for a quick kiss. “Thank you for being with me,” he whispered when it was done, pressing their foreheads together. “I don’t know if I could handle all this if you weren’t here.”

“Of course you could,” Wrathion whispered back. He kissed Anduin back, gripping him by the shoulders so tightly that it felt like he was trying to forcibly transfer his faith in Anduin over through the kiss. Anduin welcomed the intensity of it, wanting nothing more than to forget the events of the last few days even if it was just for an hour or two.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy guys! I was at a funeral all afternoon and I am exhausted. You may recall that I mentioned my grandmother having health issues a chapter or two ago, she is okay. This funeral was for a friend's father. 
> 
> I did some Outline Math and I think that there will be at least five more chapters of this fic, probably more knowing me, but we are getting down to it.

Wrathion left Anduin alone a while later, ill at ease and alert for the next unwelcome surprise. If he had his way he would spend the whole day with Anduin, comforting him as best he could and picking through his own emotions. There just wasn’t time. First he had thought there would be time once they were free of Taylor’s garrison, then it was after Ner’zhul was dealt with, and now with Anduin going back to Stormwind soon he wasn’t sure if there ever would be time. Maybe that was his fault, maybe the universe was punishing him for helping to start a war. He was not superstitious as a rule, but sometimes it certainly seemed that a higher power had it in for him.

He hadn’t heard from Left in a while. Not unusual by itself, it was common for his agents to go days between reports. However, he had tried to contact her as soon as he’d left Anduin’s room and received no reply. That could be explained away too. Perhaps he’d caught her at a bad time, and she had been unable to answer him without blowing her cover. Or perhaps the magic energies being generated within the crypts was interfering with his simple communication spell. Nevertheless, something about it wasn’t sitting right with him. Circling the garrison, he searched for a quiet spot, out of the way of prying eyes, where he could try again. Going back to his room was always an option, but he knew that Right was tailing him at a distance and didn’t want to give her an excuse to come within earshot. He didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily. There was no real evidence that anything was wrong.

After looking around for a few minutes, he found a small empty space behind some buildings and casually wandered into it under the pretense of admiring one of the trees growing all around the garrison. It really was a striking sight, and he did like that in Lunarfall the garrison had been build around the local ecosystem rather than simply razing it to the ground as was usual military practice, but that wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. He gently touched one of the gems sewn into his turban and activated the spell that would connect it to the one Left carried. “Left, are you there?”

There was no answer. The spell had activated correctly and the link was still open, but he was receiving nothing. Looking around to make sure he was alone, he gradually increased the power of the spell until the feedback from Left’s gem went beyond intentionally directed speech and allowed him some awareness of the place it was located. Still it was quiet, but he could hear soft scratches and shuffling sounds from somewhere out of his view. The gem was in darkness, and as it was linked to Left’s perception his night vision was of no use to him. At least with this he could tell that she was alive. If not, his magic would have taken control of the gem and he would be able to see much more clearly.

“Left,” he said again, in case she hadn’t heard him the first time. “Are you there?” He waited again, but there was no change. No sound, no attempts at communication. Wherever she was, Left was unable to answer him. Wrathion withdrew. It wasn’t safe to spend too much time immersed in that spell, it distracted him from anything that might be going on around him. “Contact me when you can,” he said, just in case Left was conscious and listening to him. Then he broke the spell, reluctantly feeling the small point of magic that meant Left fade from his awareness. She could be hiding, he told himself. Tucked away in a dark corner somewhere, spying on their enemies and unable to make a sound without giving away her position. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d hit such a problem when trying to speak to his agents. The thought did not reassure him. He just kept thinking of all the other possible reasons why she would be unable to answer him.

Despite his reluctance to mention anything to Right, he could tell that she had an idea of what he’d been up to. She had orders not to stand too close when he was wandering the garrison so as not to alarm anyone, but she was sticking closer than usual. If he called for her, she would be there within seconds. He almost did call for her, when he stepped back onto the path and a hand landed on his shoulder. Knocking it away and spinning around in one motion, he bared his teeth threateningly and held up his arms defensively in preparation for a fight.

It was only Khadgar, with his hand still outstretched and a shocked look on his face. “My apologies,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just sensed a magic spell being cast in this area and came to see what it was.” He tilted his head and gave Wrathion a look of concern that was almost certainly fake. “I hope nothing is wrong.”

If he was going to pry into Wrathion’s personal business, he was going to have to do better than that. Either pick up some subtlety skills or just be honest about it, Wrathion hated people who tried to snoop by acting friendly. He shrugged his shoulders. “It was only a communication spell. I use them to stay in touch with my agents in other locations.”

“I see.” Khadgar nodded, rubbing his chin and appearing to consider something. “From the energy I detected, I thought it would be something much more complicated. If you’d let me watch you cast, I could help you streamline the process if you wanted. I’ve always been interested in how black dragons handle magic, compared to the less reclusive flights.” He smiled, another fake expression, and laughed nervously.

“You’re afraid of me,” Wrathion said incredulously, too surprised to be polite. Khadgar flinched, so he knew it must be true. How flattering. It would be years yet before he would have enough power to pose a threat to one of the Kirin Tor’s Archmages.

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t necessarily say _that_.” Khadgar cleared his throat. “If I were forced to put it to the test, I am confident that I would be a match for you. It’s just that you’ve come here with a certain reputation for unpredictability. For now I believe that your intentions are good, but I have no guarantee they’ll stay that way.”

That was fair. Wrathion was used to people mistrusting him, it was more of a surprise when people did trust him. He was glad to hear that at the very least Khadgar believed that he was cooperating with the Alliance in good faith. Nobody else had offered him that kind of concession. “There is never any guarantee that things will stay the way they are,” he pointed out. “I try to plan ahead for as many contingencies as possible.”

When Khadgar smiled this time, it looked genuine. “That’s one way to handle it,” he said. “Anyway, you said earlier that you wished to speak to me about something. I rushed off then, so it’s only fair I give you the chance now. Would you accompany me back to the mage tower? I’ve been running errands all day and I’d like to sit down.”

“Ah. Just a moment.” Wrathion turned to face the direction he believed Right to be hiding in and nodded to signal that he was all right and did not need to be followed. Khadgar waited patiently without asking what he was doing, which told Wrathion that he must already have been aware of her presence. “Lead the way,” he said, and followed Khadgar down the path toward the tower.

* * *

 

The Lunarfall mage tower was very nice, if a little dull. Khadgar preferred his base at Zangarra, damp as it was. There was more light, and the camp surrounding the tower was full of other magic users. It reminded him of a smaller, less permanent Dalaran. By comparison, the tower here was closed off from the outside, shielded from the eyes of soldiers and civilians alike. A necessary precaution, something to keep powerful magics safely out of the way so that nobody could accidentally stumble into them, but it made the whole place feel very unwelcoming. Khadgar had tried to alleviate the effects by setting up a few more lamps here and there, with mixed results.

Wrathion seemed interested though, and he took some pride in that. Every mage spent a majority of their career trying to resist the temptation to show off. There was just something satisfying about seeing someone looking around at your work with genuine curiosity. Wrathion was also clever enough not to touch anything, although Khadgar would not have left anything explosive just lying around on a table. He had learned that lesson early on in his training. “Have a seat,” he offered. “Can I get you something to drink?” A wave of his hand and a tray materialized in the air containing a selection of teas and juices. Khadgar selected a cup and looked expectantly at Wrathion.

“No thank you,” Wrathion replied, looking at the summoned platter with an expression just slightly too suspicious to count as polite. “I don’t eat summoned food.”

“I assure you it is perfectly safe, but no matter.” Khadgar unsummoned the tray just as easily and pulled up a chair for himself at one of the small study tables strewn about the small room. Wrathion sat opposite him, testing the chair before resting his full weight on it. Khadgar watched with amusement. Apparently, Wrathion believed that everything in the mage tower was nothing more than smoke and mirrors. “Now then,” he added, folding his hands professionally on the table. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

There was a brief pause, during which Wrathion looked slightly uncomfortable. Khadgar didn’t know how he felt about that. Something significant enough to bring discomfort to a black dragon had to be either very interesting or very unpleasant. “Well,” Wrathion started. “I, or rather Anduin Wrynn, thought that it might be productive if I were to get your opinion about how to handle a… delicate situation.” Khadgar watched him with growing amusement. Wrathion was balancing every word carefully to avoid giving the impression that he was asking for help, but that was unquestionably what was happening.

“I see,” he said, casually taking another sip of his drink. “Well, I’m flattered to be recommended. If I have any insight, I’ll certainly share it. What is it that’s troubling you?”

Wrathion’s jaw moved as he ground his teeth together. The simple act of asking for advice seemed to be a monumental task for him. “Varian Wrynn does not trust me,” he started. “He has no reason to, but I believe he is motivated by a personal bias against me as well as the fact of my past actions. I would like to be allowed a larger role in the battle here, to help correct the damage that the Iron Horde has done by going so wildly out of control. However, he refuses to give me a chance to show that I am reliable.”

“So you’re trying to circumvent him by coming to me.” Khadgar caught on right away. If Wrathion considered the biggest obstacle to increasing his standing with the Alliance to be a personal feud, then it made sense that he would be looking for another way in. He had already displayed an impressive ability to amass resources and coordinate groups, and were he anybody else the Alliance might be clamoring to have him join. Yet Khadgar could not see any benefit to him attempting it now, when there was a large war going on that he was largely responsible for. Surely he knew it would be almost impossible to gain the favor of any members of the Alliance. “I’m curious,” Khadgar started. “From what I know, you’ve always preferred to take a neutral route. Why the sudden interest in the Alliance?”

He thought he had a pretty good idea why, which was confirmed when Wrathion abruptly took a great interest in a cobweb hanging from the ceiling. “Anduin Wrynn is important to me, and I’d like to be able to visit him when he returns to Stormwind.” He’d selected an angry tone, and was scowling at the ceiling in a way that dared anybody to question him. “I can’t very well walk into the city when the guards on every street corner are under orders to have me arrested.”

“No, I imagine that would complicate matters.” Khadgar leaned forward slightly to get a better look at Wrathion, trying to determine whether or not to believe him. Nobody except the oldest dragons could remember a time when the black dragonflight acted without the influence of the Old Gods, so there was very little effective precedent for the motivation and behavior of one uncorrupted, as Wrathion claimed to be. There were no instances, to his knowledge, of a black dragon seeking the company of a human unless there was some purpose for it. They had been a reclusive flight, inclined to stay away from others and hesitating to trust even their own kind. However, he reminded himself, Wrathion was still very young. Juvenile dragons of all flights banded together for safety, yet Wrathion had been deprived of those bonds. Having taken it upon himself to ensure that he was the last remaining black dragon, he had instead surrounded himself with humanoid races, employed as guardians and extra eyes. It was not too much of a stretch to believe that such a dragon might become attached to a human.

“I could always sneak in, of course,” Wrathion said, his usual air of smug confidence returning to him. “But Anduin would get angry with me for taking the risk.”

“Yes, it’s always best to explore other options before diving right into the life-threatening one.” Khadgar couldn’t help smiling, there was something about Wrathion’s casual reckless attitude that was endearing. Youngsters of every race were the same, it seemed. While it was important to keep in mind that most human children could not lead shadowy organizations, cast powerful spells, or breathe fire, he saw no harm in granting a relatively harmless request. “The Kirin Tor is not officially part of the Alliance, so I’m afraid that I can’t subvert the High King’s decisions. However, since we exist as a separate entity, Varian Wrynn also cannot exercise full control over my decisions. Would you be willing to cooperate with the Kirin Tor? As a dragon, you have access to magical abilities that most of us do not.”

Wrathion’s eyes narrowed and he stared, obviously trying to pinpoint the catch. “Can you make that decision all by yourself?” he asked. “Don’t you have to confer with the other Archmages?”

“Usually I wouldn’t,” Khadgar told him. “The city of Dalaran is open to any who can reach it, and a majority of the city’s function these days is due to people who are not mages. It’s not as closed off as it used to be, the Kirin Tor has warmed to collaboration with a wide variety of people and organizations. However, as you are still technically a wanted criminal with a friendly faction, I would have to obtain a majority consensus to employ you. If I were offering you any official positions.” It barely counted as a loophole, really what he was doing was flouting regulations. Jaina would be angry with him. But for all that he’d warmed to Wrathion, he wasn’t going to trust him with anything dangerous. “What I’m offering is more of a personal agreement. I’ll help you find uses for your resources in the war effort, and if you do your job adequately and without incident, I will vouch for you if you decide to contest your status as a fugitive with the Alliance.”

“That’s all?” Wrathion was frustrated, and understandably so. What Khadgar was offering him was barely more than what he could get on his own, but it was all that he could reasonably do without putting his good standing with the Alliance at risk. There was no question that Wrathion realized that. He ground his teeth together some more, drummed the fingers of one hand on the table, and finally sighed in acceptance, his shoulders dropping into a more relaxed pose. “Very well, I suppose it’s better than I expected. I’ll take you up on this offer. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.” He stood up and bowed slightly, then was out the door before Khadgar could respond.

_Children_ , Khadgar thought. _All the same_.

* * *

 

Wrathion’s agents located the survivor in the Spires a few hours past sundown. By the time they could get him calmed down enough to arrange for transport back to Lunarfall, it was nearly midnight. Anduin was up and about despite his father’s protests. He insisted on seeing the man for himself, and on being present while he was questioned. No matter how much he was reassured that it would be better in the long run for the man to answer questions right away rather than having time to repress the memories, he still thought it was needlessly harsh not to let him rest.

“We’ll keep things short,” Varian promised him as they stood in the town hall waiting for the portal to open. Anduin nodded silently. He knew that his father wouldn’t enjoy wringing answers out of a traumatized adventurer, he just hated that there was a need for it in the first place.

A gentle nudge to his other side reminded him of Wrathion’s presence, the only gesture of comfort that would be allowed with his father so nearby. Wrathion was allowed to attend this grim event only because it was his agents who would be bringing their witness, and that permission would be easy for Varian to revoke. He was on his best behavior, standing tall and quiet in front of the fireplace. Anduin nudged him back, then stilled as his father glanced over to see what the disturbance was.

The portal’s opening was almost anticlimactic. Anduin didn’t know who he had expected to come through. A badly injured warrior, perhaps. Someone who would have been physically capable of surviving an attack that left everyone around him dead. When Wrathion’s agents, a human and a hulking worgen stepped through, Anduin almost missed the man they ushered along with them. He was small, almost as short as Anduin although he was a fully grown man, and looked half starved. Even in the dim light from the lamps, it was obvious that he was shivering. The two Blacktalons let him go and both inclined their heads in small bows to Wrathion, who waved them away. “You’ve done well,” he said. “Go and rejoin the others.”

They nodded and filed back out through the portal, which closed a moment later. Varian moved first, stepping around the table and pulling out a chair for the cringing man left in the center of the room. “Have a seat,” he said. “Aaron, was it? Aaron Danvers?”

“Yes sir,” the man replied. He spoke in a heavy Gilnean accent, and so quietly that it was difficult for Anduin to hear what he was saying. “You remembered me.”

“I try to remember everyone I hand-pick for assignments,” Varian said. He had his comfort voice on, which was only a shade quieter than his normal one. Still, it was kind and deep and the last time Anduin could remember hearing it was much too long ago. “I’m sorry that you were involved in such a tragedy. Can you tell us what happened?”

Aaron nodded, although it could have been a particularly strong shiver. “They weren’t long dead when we got there,” he started. His voice was halting, and his eyes kept darting around the room like he expected to be ambushed. “We could tell because of the smell, that is, that there wasn’t one. But the place was full of ghosts. As soon as the sun went down, spirits everywhere, some of them not even knowing they’d died yet.” He snarled suddenly, the first true sign of life from him and also the only sign of his worgen blood. “That damned necromancer must have hit them all at once. He’d collected the bodies, discarded any bits he didn’t need, and made a thing out of them.”

He stopped suddenly, and did not go on. “A thing?” Varian prompted him, once the silence had stretched on so long that it became unbearable. Aaron jumped and looked back up at him like he’d forgotten that anybody was there.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “A thing made of bones and weapons and dark magic. He called it up and set it on us when we attacked him.” His teeth chattered audibly together with the next shudder. “Disgusting. But we’d seen its like before, in Northrend. Hacked it to bits. Would have been an easy job, if he hadn’t fired off a smaller version of whatever spell he used to kill the whole town. I got knocked away by a stray limb when his creature went down, but the rest of my team…” He shook his head. “I’m no healer. Nothing I could do for them but shoot him when he stopped to catch his breath. I buried them a little ways away from the town and then it was just me and the ghosts.”

Varian ended the questioning then, because it was clear that they had exhausted Aaron’s ability to hold it together. He was shaking uncontrollably, and every now and then he would whimper under his breath. “Thank you for telling us, I know it was hard for you.” Varian stood and patted him on the shoulder. “Anduin, can you lead him to the medics? Those scrapes need to be seen to, and they can give him something to help him sleep.”

Anduin nodded and stood, leaning on the table a bit for support. If he went too long without sleep, it became harder and harder for him to ignore his muscles locking up. “This way,” he said kindly, once he was sure that he wouldn’t trip over his feet on the way out. Sending him to the medics with a patient was a transparent attempt on Varian’s part to make him go away so he could discuss the new information with Jaina and Khadgar, but Anduin didn’t mind as much as he would have otherwise. After all, Aaron really did seem to need help getting there. He was following Anduin well enough, but kept on getting distracted. Wrathion followed them both at a distance, presumably to help make sure that he didn’t make a run for it. That happened sometimes with traumatized soldiers, who would see a movement out of the corner of their eye and mistake it for an enemy.

They left him in the capable hands of the healers. At a loss for what to do next, Anduin walked through the garrison grounds slowly, taking in the night air. Far from the chill in the Spires, Shadowmoon Valley was warm. It felt like springtime, the time of year when it didn’t get cold even in the middle of the night. Wrathion followed a few steps behind, saying nothing as Anduin led them out through the gate and down to the fishing pond. They stood on the bridge for a long time, listening to the sounds of insects and frogs and fish jumping in the water.

“I think Left is in trouble,” Wrathion said suddenly. “She hasn’t been replying to me, and I asked her to check in as soon as she could.”

Anduin’s throat closed up for a moment, and he had to remember how to breathe. “What kind of trouble?” he asked. “Is she hurt?”

“I don’t know.” Wrathion didn’t sound panicked, which was a good sign. His voice was thoughtful. “I don’t think so. I think she just can’t answer me, for some reason. If she were hurt, she would be more willing to risk it. Don’t tell Right, I don’t want her to worry.”

“How will you find out?” Anduin asked. It wasn’t like Wrathion could just walk into the crypts and have a look around, and if he was planning something like that then Anduin was going to tie him to one of the fence posts. “If you can’t talk to her, how can you possibly learn anything?”

“I can look through her eyes briefly,” Wrathion said. “See what she sees, hear what she hears. I’ve been trying it every few hours, just in case there happens to be something going on around her.” He sighed. “I don’t know what else I can do. If it goes on too long, of course, I’ll have to tell your father. Then I won’t have a say anymore.”

Unsure what to do, Anduin reached down to hold his hand. It wasn’t much, but at least he could share Wrathion’s troubles, so that he wouldn’t have to bear it alone.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who meant to wake up early today to finish this chapter but wound up sleeping until 3 pm and scrambling to finish! It's this idiot! 
> 
> All things considered though I actually really like this chapter. I love writing action scenes, and I hope it shows. =D

A commotion woke Anduin from his sleep early the next morning. There was shouting, and the sound of feet running past the inn, and the distinct crackle of spells being cast. One voice rose above the rest. His father was calling troops to arms. Still half-asleep, Anduin struggled out of bed, nearly tripping himself up in his hurry. The garrison was under attack! He’d overheard soldiers swapping tales about past invasions, but hadn’t thought that anything would happen while he was there. There were no signs of damage to any of the garrison structures, so he had assumed that attacks were few and far between.

Throwing on a coat over his pajamas and pausing only briefly to pull on his boots, Anduin rushed out into the hallway. Already he could hear his father’s voice in his head telling him to go back and barricade himself inside his room, where it was safe. He ignored it and made his way cautiously down the hall, on the lookout for anything suspicious. Getting ambushed before he could even see what was happening would do nothing to help. The sounds of combat grew louder and louder as he approached the door, and he stepped outside into a scene of utter chaos.

It was the Shadowmoon orcs attacking, that much was obvious from the moment he set foot out the door. Dark magic dulled the light that reached the garrison, and a group of warlocks were taking advantage of the shadows to conceal themselves in corners and cast spells at the disoriented defenders. Their minions accompanied them, not demons as was traditional for warlocks but skeletons, walking on their own and attacking mindlessly at the direction of their masters.

One of the skeletons broke away from its master and lurched toward Anduin, holding up its hands to strike. Anduin yelled and reflexively summoned a shield, which the skeleton crashed into at full speed. Its arm popped off, but it just snapped the limb back into place and kept battering away at the shield. Anduin said a frenzied prayer and burned it with a stab of searing light. That finished it off, but had the side effect of attracting the attention of other enemies. As they advanced on him he backed away slowly, maintaining his shield and looking for a more secure location from which to fight.

“Anduin! Over here!” His father bellowed at him from across the square, successfully drawing the attention of the attackers as well as Anduin. He broke away from the warlock he had been battling with to grab a discarded axe off the ground, throwing it with incredible force at the skeleton nearest to Anduin. It split the skull, and the skeleton staggered on for a few more feet before dropping.

Anduin took advantage of the distraction to run to his father as quickly as he could. “What’s going on?” he asked breathlessly when he got there, leaning his weight uncomfortably away from his bad leg. “Why are they attacking all of a sudden?”

“Our scouts got captured,” Varian told him shortly, taking his sword back up and effortlessly fending off another skeleton. “The leader of this attack has Qiana with him, and he’s using her as bait to goad our soldiers into acting recklessly.” He cast his gaze across the square, and apparently determined that it would be too dangerous to send Anduin back through the melee to the inn. “Stay close to me, and don’t try to take anything on by yourself.”

Expanding his shield to cover his father, Anduin looked around for the leader. He was sure that Qiana would need healing, if they were able to rescue her. “What about Left?” he asked. “Do they have her too?”

“If they do, they didn’t bring her.” Varian answered. “Not that it mattered to your dragon friend. He flew off somewhere as soon as he heard they’d brought a captive, I’m sure he’s going to do something stupid at any minute.”

Anduin was sure of it too. Wrathion was fiercely protective of his things, whether that meant physical possessions, the items he sent adventurers to fetch for him, or the people he considered part of his inner circle. It was when those things were threatened that his draconic nature truly shone through. There was only one way Anduin could imagine him reacting to the news that one of their scouts was being held hostage, and that was a direct confrontation with those responsible. The safety of the garrison would be a secondary priority for him, his main focus would be on finding Left.

“Help me find him,” he said during a brief lull in their area of the garrison. “Whatever he’s going to do, I want to be there to make sure it doesn’t go badly.” Standing on his toes, he looked around for any signs of Wrathion. Fire would be a clue, but so far he could see nothing.

“Wherever he is, that’s likely to be the most dangerous place within miles of here.” Varian shook his head. “I won’t lead you directly into that kind of situation. When he does what he’s planning to do, then you can see if there’s anything you can do to mitigate the damage. Until then you’re not getting involved.”

“I’m already involved!” Anduin waved an arm in a frustrated gesture. “Left is my friend. I want to find her just as badly as Wrathion does.” No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to impress upon his father that the attachment he had to Wrathion and his guards was real. Varian kept on acting like he could make Anduin forget all about them by minimizing the amount of contact he was allowed to have with them. It was annoying at best, but a full-scale attack on the garrison was no time to try breaking through his denial. Anduin sighed. He was going to have to disobey his father again, then.

He didn’t have to look very far to pick up traces of Wrathion. The building nearest to where he stood with his father had a scorch mark on the side of it. Since the Shadowmoon orcs weren’t using fire in their attacks, it could only have come from an ally. There were mages at Lunarfall, of course, but the mark on the building was still smoldering. Anduin didn’t think that a trained mage would leave hot embers where they could easily ignite a friendly structure, even in the middle of a battle. Wrathion had been here, but where had he gone? He turned in place, looking for more fire. If Wrathion had been participating in the battle he wasn’t likely to stop. Anduin should be able to see his attacks if he just looked hard enough.

There, by the stables. The unmistakable orange light of fire briefly illuminated the back of the building and a panicked scream cut through the air. That was the sort of noise that could only come from someone finding themselves face to face with a dragon. Wrathion was still small enough to prefer battle in his human form, but he tended to let the disguise slip during fights in favor of concentrating on his attacks. The sight of his wings spread out behind his back and his fangs bared in a snarl could make any assailant think twice before attacking. Anduin reinforced the shield around his father so that it would remain in place for another minute or two without him, then made to walk away.

“No you don’t.” Varian must have seen the fire too, and worked out what Anduin was thinking. He gripped tightly onto Anduin’s shoulder, pulling him back. “I’ve seen you in fights, son, and you have a lot of talent, but that’s no reason to go rushing into more danger. It’s safer to stick together.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Anduin struggled. Wrathion was fast, if he didn’t get over there soon then he’d have to start looking all over again. “I’m going to find Wrathion,” he said, managing to pull his shoulder free. “You don’t want me out here alone, and I don’t want him out here alone. You can come with me if you like, but I’m going to help him.”

He didn’t expect it to work, but Varian did not grab him again. Attackers and allies still swarmed on both sides, Anduin’s shields briefly keeping everything off of them. Carefully, Anduin took a step toward the stables. Varian took a step after him, not to catch him, only matching his movement. That was all Anduin needed. He dropped the shield, the glimmering light would only draw attention to them, and ran.

* * *

 

 Anduin was younger and not carrying a heavy weapon, but Varian had the advantage of strength. He kept pace easily, ready to reach out and steady Anduin if his legs should betray him. _I can’t believe I’m doing this_ , he thought. It was madness to allow his only son to run towards a fighting dragon, but in the midst of a battle there was no way to stop him. His only choices had been to let him go or to stay close and try to protect him.

He reminded himself again that Anduin had seen battle before, and had fought admirably. It wasn’t as if he was following an untested fighter through the melee, he might not even be alive today if Anduin hadn’t held his own so well against the band of assassins that had once ambushed them in the middle of their own city. Every battle was different, however, and fighting off such a large ambush was dangerous even for seasoned warriors like himself. There would never be a point where he could believe that Anduin was safe in combat. History told him that the kings of Stormwind died young, and the thought that he wouldn’t always be around to protect Anduin loomed every time a bolt of magic zoomed by or a fighter cried out around him. Anduin needed to be accustomed to combat by that time, he needed to be able to defend himself. But that didn’t mean that Varian should just let him go on his own.

Rounding the corner of the stables, Varian knocked a warlock to the ground before he could finish chanting a spell. A second later, while he was catching his breath, he saw what the old orc had been aiming at. An old orc dressed in the dark Shadowmoon robes and carrying a staff that pulsed with power stood a short distance away. In one deceptively strong arm he held Qiana Moonshadow, the druid scout. She showed no sign of physical injury, but her struggles were weak and ineffective. Circling the orc was Wrathion, hunched down in a predator’s stance, his eyes glowing brighter than Varian had ever seen them.

On his next turn, Wrathion caught sight of them and his eyes widened. “Anduin?” he asked, taking a step forward. The brief distraction was enough, and the old warlock brought the end of his staff down on the ground. A dark mist rose up, surrounding them and blocking out Varian’s vision more effectively than the thickest blindfold. When it cleared, there was no sign of the orc or their captured scout. Wrathion swore loudly, whirling on the spot in a vain search. “Coward!” he hissed. “Another moment and I could have had him.” Then he remembered Anduin, and to Varian’s surprise his anger faded immediately as he hurried forward. “Anduin! Did you come to help me save Left? Are you hurt?”

Anduin broke away from Varian’s side and collided with Wrathion in a rough embrace. “I’m fine, just fine, what about you? How long have you been fighting him? Did he get you anywhere?” Their hug seemed to serve a double purpose of allowing them both to check the other for hidden injuries. Varian grimaced but forced himself to stay silent. Now wasn’t the time to pick a fight with someone who he was reasonably sure was on his side in this attack.

“A few scrapes, nothing serious.” Wrathion pushed Anduin off of him before he could begin healing them. “There will be time to see to them later, right now I have to find that orc again. You saw him, he has Left’s mission partner! She can tell me what’s happened.” He looked up at Varian like he was only just now noticing his presence. “Wrynn! Did you see which way he went?”

“If any of us saw, I’ll be shocked.” Varian strode over and put his hand on Anduin’s arm, gently pulling him back. “You’re welcome, by the way, for taking out that other warlock that was about to blast your head off. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you need to divide your attention in a fight? He only got away because you stopped paying attention to him entirely when we got here.”

Wrathion grumbled something under his breath but did not argue. “He has to still be around here somewhere,” he said instead. “He’s using the druid as leverage, he won’t just leave until the attack is finished.” Transforming in the blink of an eye into his dragon form, he jumped up into the air and hovered a few feet over their heads. “I’m going to fly up and have a look around. You two stay here.” He flew farther up toward the roof of the stables, not even seeming to realize that he had just issued an order to the High King of the Alliance. Varian frowned at Anduin, who just rolled his eyes and cast a pointed look around. Of course, Varian reminded himself. He couldn’t focus on Wrathion’s attitude. They were hidden away from the battle, but that didn’t mean he could drop his guard.

“See anything?” Anduin asked as Wrathion descended a few minutes later. If he hadn’t spoken, Varian might not have noticed the movement. Wrathion’s dark scales made for impressive camouflage in this unnaturally dim night.

“I did,” Wrathion confirmed. “He’s making for the mines. I sent Right over that way to cut him off, but she can only slow him for a few minutes so we’ll have to hurry.” He paused to shift back into his human form and gave Anduin a cautious look. “I won’t say no to your shielding if you come with me, but don’t you think you had better go and help organize the other healers? From what I saw it’s a panic over there.”

Anduin shook his head. “I trust them,” he said. “Besides, if you get Qiana away from him she might need healing right away. We don’t know what’s happened to her.”

Varian nodded his approval. He hadn’t liked the look of lethargy on Qiana’s face either. For all they knew she had been poisoned, or worse. It would be dangerous but they had to get her back as soon as possible, and if Anduin went to the other healers he would be in even more danger. A concentrated medical area was always the first target during an attack. “Lead the way, then,” he instructed Wrathion. “You saw where the fighting was, so try to lead us around the biggest clusters.”

“Stealth is my specialty.” Wrathion grinned at him. “Just try to keep up.” Then he took off, circling around the edges of the garrison. It truly would have been a challenge to keep up with him if he didn’t stop so frequently to make sure that Anduin was still behind him. He led them around the stables, past the town hall, and down again around the back of the barracks. It was slow going and several times they had to stop to fend off attackers.

Varian itched to get back into the fray. He was the king, the military leader of any Alliance outpost in which he happened to reside. His job was to lead his soldiers into battle and provide a focusing point for the army, not to sneak around in the shadows. If anyone saw him, he knew that it would look like he was trying to avoid the fight. He knew that their objective was important and couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by his percieved appearance, but it stung at his pride that he couldn’t charge through the enemy the way he was trained to do. When they reached the gate leading out toward the mines he sighed in relief. There were no attackers out this far, nobody to judge him for acting in an unkingly manner. There was only the darkness, and somewhere ahead of them he knew they would find their quarry.

They rounded a corner and crept toward the mines. Wrathion stopped and pointed, Varian squinted his eyes to try to see. Normally his night vision was better than that of an average person, but in this magically conjured darkness he felt helpless. If he looked as hard as possible, he could just barely perceive some slight movement up ahead.

Wrathion seemed to be able to see more clearly than Varian could. He was focused on a point within the blackness where Varian couldn’t see anything, and stood so still that Varian and Anduin both instinctively froze as well. “Get ready,” he whispered. Varian tensed and adjusted his grip on his sword, beside him he could hear Anduin taking long, slow breaths to clear his mind. Wrathion tracked something with his eyes, away from the garrison wall and closing in on the mouth of the mine. He took a step forward, crouched in a hunter’s stance, and then yelled “Now!”

There was a thump, and the unmistakable sound of a blade tearing into fabric. The warlock shouted and shook something off his back. It hit the ground beside Varian as he charged and he realized it was Wrathion’s other guard. Anduin skidded to a halt at her side and knelt down, casting a shield to cover Wrathion as he reached the warlock and leaped into battle with his claws outstretched. Varian hesitated briefly, torn between pursuing the main threat and staying back to defend Anduin. When Anduin looked up and waved him on, he ran to join Wrathion in the fight. “Leave some for me!” he shouted, swinging his sword at the warlock’s head.

* * *

 

 Anduin would never understand the appeal of battle cries. All they seemed to do was alert the enemy to your upcoming attack. He watched the fight anxiously, but when his father and Wrathion seemed to gain the upper hand he turned his attention back to Right. She was conscious at least, whatever injury she had sustained from her crash could be handled by a single healer. “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked her, preparing a healing spell while he waited for her to reply.

“Still working that out,” she managed, turning her head slightly to look at him. “I don’t think anything’s broken but I hit my head pretty… ouch.” Having apparently exhausted her remaining energy, she went limp and closed her eyes. Anduin didn’t ask anything else. As long as she stayed awake, he didn’t need her to exert herself. From what she’d managed to tell him, he would just assume she’d suffered a concussion and go from there.

The fight went on ahead of him while he healed, which made it very difficult to focus. He was lucky that Right was mostly just stunned, he could heal concussions in his sleep. If she’d sustained a more serious injury he might have had to move her. Getting in a calm, healing mindset was excruciatingly hard when he could hear his father and Wrathion hurling insults at each other as they worked on cornering the warlock. Wrathion had a low opinion of anyone who didn’t even attempt to dodge minor attacks, and Varian was infuriated by Wrathion’s unpredictability. Once, Wrathion threw a fireball at the warlock and Varian nearly turned on him for it, since it had singed the top of his head. Anduin felt sure that if they could stop criticizing each others’ strategy and focus the fight would be over almost immediately, the two of them together were more than a match for this single orc.

He couldn’t see Qiana. The warlock was no longer holding her, which meant she had to be nearby. Once he got Right on her feet he would look, she had looked sick when he’d last seen her and would certainly need help as soon as he could provide it. As if reading his mind, Right stirred after a few minutes of healing and opened her eyes. She was still dazed but her face was less pale and she looked much stronger. “Can you get up?” Anduin asked her. Normally it was a bad idea to move patients, but they were far too close to the fight for him to feel comfortable leaving her.

“I think so.” Right took a few steadying breaths, then grabbed onto his upper arm and together they struggled to their feet. “He dropped the druid over by the cave entrance,” she told him, pointing the way. “I’ll be fine, you go tend to her. She’ll tell us where to find Left.”

Anduin nodded and helped her over to the garrison wall, where she could sit in relative safety concealed by the shadow it cast. Then he turned and assessed his options. The direction that Right had indicated would lead him right past the ongoing brawl. He couldn’t wait for it to end, all three of them were tiring but there was no telling when the scales would tip. His best bet, he decided was just to run for it. If he timed it right he could even assist his father and Wrathion as he went by. It wasn’t a long distance, although his old injuries were already acting up from running through the garrison earlier he was sure he could make it. On the count of three, then.

He took a breath, let it out, and once the warlock’s back was turned momentarily toward him he made his move. Casting a quick heal at Wrathion, who was starting to look a little battered, and renewing the shield over his father, who was bearing the brunt of the attacks, he darted past the fight and ducked behind a boulder near the cave entrance for cover once he was safely past. “Qiana?” he called as loudly as he dared, looking around from his hiding spot for any sign of her. “Qiana Moonshadow? Can you hear me?”

A slight groan from the mouth of the cave caught his attention and he sighed in relief. She was still alive, and close enough that he had been able to hear her over the clashing of weapons. He rushed over and found her crumpled in a corner, having evidently suffered from the same type of toss that Right had. “Do you know me?” he asked her. She shook her head and her eyes moved strangely. Anduin took her hand and held it up to help her focus on him. “I’m a healer,” he said. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know,” Qiana answered. “I feel strange.” She pressed her free hand to her head, so just as he had with Right, Anduin started his healing there.

He quickly discovered that she was not sporting any serious physical injuries. “It’s magic you feel,” he exclaimed. “They were using shadow magic to interfere with your actions. I know about that spell, so don’t worry, I can undo it.” At this point he was not sure that Qiana was listening to him, her eyes had rolled back and she gave no indication that she was aware of her surroundings. Still, it was good practice for a healer to explain what they were doing at all times. It helped keep the patient calm.

Shadow magic could take hold in someone’s mind easily, preying on their weaknesses and insecurities. It wasn’t a very kind tactic to use, Anduin always felt very guilty when he had to resort to it, but in a pinch it was a good way to temporarily disable someone without a struggle. If done properly, the control spell could be burned away with the Light and would leave no lasting damage. He just had to make sure that he got all of it on the first try, or else there might be side effects. It would definitely draw some attention his way, though. In a futile effort to block the light, he moved so that he was between Qiana and the cave entrance. Then he put his hands over her forehead and began to pray.

The resulting flash of light, severing the control of the warlock and chasing away the bonds of shadow from Qiana’s mind, was so bright that Anduin fell back and clapped his hands over his eyes. He jumped up and braced for an attack, but when his vision stopped swimming he could see clearly again. The magically induced darkness was gone, and there were no more sounds of battle from anywhere. Cautiously, he took a step outside of the cave to look around.

“Anduin!” Varian ran over, breathing hard from the fight. “They all just teleported away! What did you do?” He looked so proud that Anduin hated to shatter the illusion that he’d had anything to do with it.

“Nothing that should have chased them away,” he explained, gesturing behind him at Qiana. “They were using magic to keep our scout under their control, and I just broke their spell. That’s all. She should wake up soon.” His healing had rendered her unconscious, not a common side effect but a known risk if the spell being broken was especially strong.

“Bring her to me once she does.” Wrathion had gone to Right immediately once the fighting ceased, and approached slowly now with her supported on one shoulder. “I’m going to get Right back to our room. Thank you for healing her. I wouldn’t be able to find a replacement bodyguard if anything had happened.”

Wrathion’s stare was intense, and Anduin felt clumsy trying to form words. “I’ll stop by later to make sure she’s okay,” he offered, glad that it was still dark enough that his father wouldn’t see his face reddening. Wrathion smiled back at him and nodded, his expression taking on a sly edge. He turned and walked slowly away with Right, leaving Anduin and Varian to carry Qiana back into the garrison.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI EVERYONE it's still Saturday so it still counts as an on-time update. 
> 
> I don't want to be That Guy (tm), but I did not get any comments on the last chapter. I'm not writing entirely for feedback, but I really appreciate comments. It's the only way I can know what is working and what isn't, and also I just love hearing from you guys. I don't mean to say that anyone HAS to comment, if you don't have anything to say that is fine, but I like talking to my readers! You're always welcome to send me any thoughts you have.
> 
> also I changed my username nobody panic

By the time Qiana was safely delivered to the regrouping healers, Anduin was so tired that he was staggering. He tried to stumble in the direction of the barracks when they left, but Varian gently guided him away. “Back to bed,” he instructed. “I'll send someone to check in on the rogue if you're that worried.”

Anduin couldn't muster more than a token protest. The adrenaline had worn off and he could barely see straight. He allowed himself to be led back to the inn, barely even taking note of the reconstruction efforts happening around him. The attack had done significant damage to most structures, and the inn was no exception. Even with workers sawing and hammering up on the roof, he managed to fall asleep before he had finished taking his shoes off.

He woke up to the sun in his eyes and shouting from outside. The sound had him sitting up in alarm, but then he realized that they were not fearful shouts. Only workmen, communicating with each other from the roof to the ground. Wondering what time it was, Anduin stood up and set about the task of making himself presentable. He had promised to check on Wrathion, and he was a mess. His pajamas could be written off entirely, there were bruises he didn't remember getting all over his body, and his eyes were still red from the interrupted sleep. He couldn’t be seen outside like that.

After a warm bath and a change of clothes he felt slightly more alive. He’d healed the largest bruises but left the smaller ones, his energy would be better spent healing others. His wounds were superficial and would fade on their own in a few days. With a last, habitual look around his room to make sure nothing was out of place, he left the inn to go check up on his patients.

The previous night’s attack made the warm weather and happy atmosphere around the garrison seem incongruous. Aside from the repairs taking place around him, it was like nothing had happened at all. Every vendor in Lunarfall was open for business as usual, people were chatting all around the town square, and there were smiling faces everywhere he looked. Life in an active war zone certainly was something special. If Stormwind City had been attacked, the citizens would not be so quick to bounce back. Pausing just outside, Anduin considered his options and decided to check on Qiana first. Wrathion would be annoyed if he arrived without any news of her condition. The medical station was near the barracks, but it was heavily guarded and Wrathion was not allowed to go within a few yards of it.

He was greeted when he arrived by Aaron, the worgen who had emerged as the sole survivor of the attack on Taylor’s garrison. Although he was still visibly nervous and looked around at every loud noise, Aaron seemed much improved from his condition upon arrival. He felt comfortable enough to take on his worgen form, and was helping one of the healers bandage a minor wound on the local paladin named Yrel. Anduin waved at both of them as he walked up, smiling to see that there were few patients with serious injuries. The attack hadn’t done as much damage as he had feared.

“Good morning,” Anduin said politely, dodging a medic who was walking past with a stack of bandages to be washed. “I’m here to check on Qiana Moonshadow. Has she woken up yet?”

The dwarf caring for Yrel shook his head without looking up, but his tone when he spoke wasn’t unfriendly. “’Fraid not. Your father came by earlier asking the same thing. She’s been showing signs of life, so we should have her up and about soon, but you’ll have to let her rest.”

Anduin sighed. If a more experienced priest had broken that spell, Qiana would have been on her feet again within the hour. He’d put too much energy into it. “When she wakes up, give her my apologies for the difficult rescue.” It would have been better if he had stayed with her and shielded her until the attack ended and then gone for help, but the possibility hadn’t occurred to him.

He continued to berate himself on the way to the barracks, and only noticed that he’d arrived at his destination when he looked around and realized that he had no idea which room was Wrathion’s. The building was of a decent size, with bunks stacked up around the walls of the common area. Wrathion would be housed in one of the officer’s rooms, to keep him away from the general population, but all those doors were closed. Anduin hesitated. He couldn’t very well go barging into someone else’s room just because he thought Wrathion might be inside.

As he was standing there, trying to decide what to do, the door farthest to the left opened a crack. Right’s face appeared in the opening, and she beckoned to him without speaking. Her face was blank, as it often was, and Anduin smiled in relief to see it devoid of pain. He followed her into the small room, lit only by a single small lantern and having already accumulated some of the clutter characteristic of a draconic occupant.

“You took your time.” Anduin’s eyes adjusted gradually to the darkness, and Wrathion slowly appeared. He was lying on the room’s single bed, sprawled out casually on his back, and grinning at Anduin in a teasing way.

Although Wrathion seemed to find it funny, Anduin still felt a little bad. He had promised to come and check on them as soon as he could, and there was no doubt that he’d broken that promise. “Sorry,” he said, avoiding Wrathion’s gaze in embarrassment. “I wanted to come sooner but I fell asleep.”

“Ah well, the fact of the matter is so did I.” Wrathion sat up and smiled again, less amused and more apologetic. “I certainly didn’t expect a fight with a second-rate warlock to take so much out of me, I must be getting rusty.”

Anduin wouldn’t describe Wrathion’s opponent that way. “I think you did wonderfully,” he said. “Even my father was having trouble, so it wasn’t like you were fighting someone weak. I’m sorry I wasn’t more help.” In comparison to Wrathion and his father, who had done all the fighting, Anduin felt that he had contributed relatively little.

“Excuse me for holding myself to slightly higher standards than your father.” Wrathion looked horrified that Anduin would even think to compare them. It was hard not to laugh. “I appreciated your efforts also,” Wrathion added, extending the claws of one hand and appearing to examine them carefully. “The medic your father sent informed Right that her injury might have been much worse had she not received immediate care.”

Anduin cringed slightly. He had come to see how Right was doing, but Wrathion had managed to distract him completely. As usual. “You’re doing okay then?” he asked her. She was up and about, and wasn’t showing any signs of pain. Sitting a slight distance from the two of them and keeping watch out the window, she gave Anduin the impression that she was deliberately avoiding the conversation. Perhaps she was trying not to intrude, or maybe she was just trying to listen in without being noticed.

Briefly turning away from her watch, Right nodded. “I feel fine.” Then her eyes narrowed and she gave Wrathion a suspicious glare. “The Prince, on the other hand, refused to let the Stormwind medic examine him at all, even though I’m sure he took several direct hits during the attack.”

The ever-present smirk dropped from Wrathion’s face. His eyes widened and he shot Right a look of utter betrayal. “I told you that I’m fine!” He sat up to address Anduin. “I really am fine. Like I said last night, it’s only a few scrapes. Surface level. They’ll heal on their own within a week.”

Anduin shook his head, amused by Wrathion’s protests. He didn’t know why Wrathion had such a strong aversion to letting a healer tend to his wounds, especially since he had seemed to enjoy the attention every time Anduin had managed to convince him in the past. “I believe you,” he said with his best smile. “I just want to make sure anyway. Even minor wounds can become serious if they don’t get cleaned properly, at the very least.” He sat on the end of the bed, taking care not to get in Wrathion’s space but wanting to put them on equal footing. Wrathion looked down and fiddled with his claws some more. After giving him a minute to think, Anduin prompted him again for an answer. “I promise not to do anything you aren’t okay with, I just want to make sure you heal up as quickly as possible. We might not have a week to wait, I think my father wants to mount a counterattack as soon as Qiana wakes up.”

More than anything else, the promise of a possible rescue for Left convinced Wrathion. Naturally, he wanted to be in top form for that to maximize his chance of success. He took in a breath, let it out, and then nodded. “Very well. I will let you look, if only to stop you worrying over me.” A simple look from him sent Right out of the room, and then they were alone.

* * *

 

 The wounds really were superficial, from a dragon’s standards, but Wrathion knew how Anduin would react to seeing them. He would make a fuss, scold Wrathion for keeping them hidden, and then insist upon being allowed to heal them up with that Light magic of his that got down underneath the skin and felt absolutely wonderful. Wrathion sighed and wondered if there was any way to get out of it. Anduin would not always be around to heal him when he got hurt, no matter what either of them wished, and letting anyone else heal him was out of the question unless it was a dire emergency. He couldn’t let himself become complacent, or learn to expect relief from minor injuries. He was a black dragon, he would be strong.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t deny that his sides were stinging with every movement. During the fight, before Anduin had caught up to him, there had been a point where several of the summoned skeletons had caught up to him. Their fingers had dug into his sides through his shirt and leather armor, unhindered by the mental processes that held living beings back during such times, and left deep scrapes along his ribs. Mending his clothes had been simple magic, but the wounds remained. He hadn’t yet worked up the motivation to check and see if they were still bleeding or not.

There was no escaping Anduin’s expectant stare. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Wrathion reluctantly unfastened his armor and pulled his shirt up about halfway. Enough to expose most of the wounds, although not the whole mess. They were still bleeding, he realized at once, hissing softly as the fabric pulled away from his skin. He avoided Anduin's eyes, trying to ignore the way his face fell at the sight of the wounds.

Anduin gave a short, nervous laugh. “Well,” he said. “That isn't as bad as I was expecting. You should have told me about it earlier, I bet you haven't been comfortable.” He looked around the room, taking stock of the resources available to him. “Do you think anyone will mind if I get blood all over the washbasin and towels?”

“If they do, I’ll take the blame,” Wrathion assured him. He watched Anduin rummaging around for clean towels and filling the basin and tried to banish his nerves. It was _only Anduin_ , he'd seen worse.

“Very noble of you.” Anduin sat back down next to him and looked him up and down. Then he cleared his throat. “I may need you to, um, take your shirt off. The scrapes go awfully far up, and…” he broke off, blushing hard, and coughed again. “And I need to be able to clean all of them.” His expression was so endearing that Wrathion had to work hard not to laugh at him. Surely Anduin did not plan on being so bashful with all of his future patients. Then the reason for Anduin’s embarrassment caught up with him and he almost succumbed to it. _Oh_.

When he thought about it, he realized that he wasn’t surprised by Anduin’s request so much as by the fact that it did not bother him. His human form was far from perfect, he would need several years more practice before it would be fully convincing, but he felt sure that Anduin would not judge him for its flaws. Still, it was difficult to overcome the impulse to cover up the places where the disguise weakened. He didn’t need it spread around that the Black Prince, last of the black dragonflight, was so inexperienced that he had yet to master a simple shapeshifting spell.

Wrathion slowly reached up to remove his turban, taking care not to catch his claws in the fabric. He resisted the urge to duck away from the light when it was off, allowing Anduin a clear view of his growing horns. When they were shorter they had been perfectly hidden in his hair, but as his true body began to mature they had grown, and now stuck noticeably up into sharp little points. They would grow further as he aged, becoming smoother at the ends but more impressive to look at, should he fail to gain the talent for hiding them when he shapeshifted. Anduin watched him without a word, seeming to sense that this was a delicate moment. One of his hands twitched as though he wanted to reach out and touch them, but to Wrathion's relief he remained still.

“They're not much to look at,” Wrathion muttered. Not next to the beautiful, curving horns of a grown drake, especially.

“I like them.” Anduin's voice was almost painfully gentle. Wrathion almost snapped at him that he didn't need reassurance. He stopped himself, because he knew that Anduin wasn't the type to lie to him just to make him feel better about himself. Anduin really _did_ like them, even though they were little more than irritating spikes that stuck out of his head, caught on things if left uncovered, and ached sometimes as they slowly grew.

Feeling that the difficult part was out of the way already, Wrathion pulled his shirt off without any fanfare or hesitation. The air hitting the scratches made them sting and he bit his lip to keep from complaining. Eager to clear the nervous energy out of the air, he grinned through the pain and winked at Anduin. “See anything you like?”

Anduin choked. Wrathion smiled wider and waited for him to recover. He was so easy to get a reaction from sometimes, it was truly wonderful. “Yeah,” Anduin said eventually, and if Wrathion didn't know better he would have said that Anduin actually looked _shy_. “Would look better without those, though.” He smiled and gestured at the wounds, having managed to shake off Wrathion's teasing and making a good attempt at retaliation.

“Hmm, I see your point.” Wrathion made a show of looking over his sides as if he was seeing the scrapes for the first time. “Very well then, I’ll let you do your best to get rid of them.” He nodded at Anduin in invitation, knowing that he was still waiting to make sure he had permission to come into Wrathion’s space.

The first touch of the damp towel to his ribs hurt, the water seeping into the scrapes and scrubbing off the blood that had begun drying to the skin. Subsequent passes with the towel were more tolerable, as he had learned what to expect and was braced for it. Still, he was glad when Anduin finished and dried him off, then set the pile of bloody cloth to the side. Several of the scratches had reopened and begun bleeding again in earnest, Anduin moved to set his hands on those first. Wrathion let his breath out in a long sigh when he felt the first touches of healing magic sinking into his skin and coaxing the wounds shut. It always felt like the spells Anduin used affected more than just the injured places. His entire body began to relax, and he could feel any worries or confusion in his mind being chased away.

Anduin’s hands were brushing slowly up and down his sides, tracing around the wounds to encourage the magic. They were barely touching him and it almost tickled, sending shivers up his spine. He leaned into it to encourage a firmer touch and wound up with his chin resting on Anduin’s shoulder, face turned into his neck. Anduin briefly stopped, holding his hands in the air just above Wrathion’s skin, but resumed the gentle stroking when Wrathion gave him an irritated nudge with his forehead.

Time slipped away. It could have been ten minutes or a full hour later that Wrathion realized Anduin wasn’t healing him anymore. He felt no more pain, and there were no wounds to catch Anduin’s fingers as they ran up and down his ribs. The things he was meant to be doing nagged at his mind, only to be brushed away as easily as specks of dust. There was nothing he could do for Left until the druid awoke, and he had made his interest in that matter very clear. Someone would alert him when she was ready to be questioned. His argument for being allowed to participate in the counterattack was simple, he didn’t need to practice it any further. The only thing that he needed to focus on at that moment was Anduin, the smell of him and the softness of his hands, how warm he felt against Wrathion’s bare chest and stomach, the quiet sound of his breathing.

It occurred to him, slowly, like the thought was pushing its way up through a deep pool of water, that he wanted to kiss Anduin more than he ever had before. He held back, afraid that if he moved then Anduin would stop what he was doing and the moment would be shattered. When he couldn’t stand it anymore he turned his head slightly to push a kiss into Anduin’s neck. The effect was immediate. Anduin’s breath caught, his grip tightened, and he pushed Wrathion back just far enough to reach his mouth and kiss him hard.

* * *

 

Wrathion’s hands were skirting around the edge of Anduin’s shirt, moving under it and sometimes pushing it up slightly. Anduin let him do it, but sternly reminded himself that he would have to stop him if things moved any further. The barracks weren’t exactly private, he could hear soldiers going in and out the building through the closed door. His father would be looking for him soon too, after the attack he was bound to want to keep a close eye on Anduin. Anduin wanted to keep an eye on him too, he wanted to be involved in the counterattack in any way he could and the only way to guarantee that was to participate in the planning stages. He could only allow himself a little more time with Wrathion before he had to go back out into the garrison and face reality.

Knowing that made it all the better, somehow. Every time Wrathion reached for him it made him lose his breath, each small touch felt better than the last. “Thank you,” Wrathion whispered, taking one of his hands and bringing it to one of the spots where he’d healed a wound. Anduin rubbed at the spot and smiled, brushing his nose against Wrathion’s before kissing him again.

Sure enough, he heard someone entering the barracks and approaching the door to Wrathion’s room. Despite knowing that Right would not let anyone barge in without warning, he pulled back from Wrathion in a panic and hurried to fix his shirt. Wrathion didn’t even bother with his armor and shirt, opting instead to shove them off the bed and transform into his dragon form, stretching casually and lying down by the pillows.

“Anduin? Are you in there?” Varian called through the door, rapping on it loudly. Anduin jumped and felt himself blushing even more. He hadn’t expected his father to come and fetch him personally, he’d expected him to send a guard.

“Yes, I’m here.” He looked around the room for a mirror to check, hoping desperately that he was presentable. There wasn’t one. Wrathion caught his eye, looked him up and down, and nodded. “You can come in,” Anduin called. “The door isn’t locked.” Wrathion’s idea of presentable might not be quite the same as his own, but he would have to trust it.

Varian pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. To Anduin it felt so warm in the room that he was sure it would be obvious what they’d been up to, but his father didn’t seem to notice. He raised an eyebrow at Wrathion, who seldom took on his dragon form in front of visitors, but did not comment. “The healers tell me that Moonshadow is up,” he said. “I thought you might want to be there when I question her.”

“That’s great!” Anduin jumped up and hurried over. “Yes, I want to be there. I want to apologize for overdoing the spell to break their control on her.”

“I’m sure she won’t hold it against you.” Varian said. “Being under someone else’s control is terrifying, and I hope you never have to experience it.” He politely avoided giving Wrathion a look as he said that, but Anduin could tell it was a concentrated effort.

“Wrathion, are you coming with us?” he asked. It was hard to imagine how to manage that, with Wrathion’s tunic and shirt on the ground behind the bed. If he left the barracks in his dragon form, that would definitely raise questions.

Wrathion stood up and shook himself. “I’ll catch up with you,” he said. “I can’t leave my room in this state. I’ll clear up these bloodied remnants of my horrible injuries and meet up with you afterward.”

His delivery was good, but it was a terrible excuse. Anduin sighed as Varian gave Wrathion a disbelieving stare. “I didn’t realize that the Prince of the black dragonflight was so willing to pick up his own dirty laundry. Don’t you have servants to do that for you?”

“I do _not_ have servants,” Wrathion insisted. “I have agents, and Right is under orders to take things easy until we’re certain she’s suffered no ill effects from her fall.” He sat down near the end of the bed and lashed his tail indignantly. “Are you implying that I am willing to overwork my employees, even when they have been injured?”

“Of course not,” Varian sighed. He shook his head in a gesture of defeat. “If you’re not there by the time we get to see her, we’ll start without you. Anduin, come on.”

Anduin spent the walk over trying to decide what he wanted to ask Qiana. Should he ask about Left, or should he leave that to Wrathion? His instinct was to try getting involved with her treatment, but there were more experienced healers at Lunarfall he should leave it to them. Maybe he would just listen to what his father asked and make it up from there.

Qiana was out of bed when they arrived, but the healers warned them that they would need to be quick. “Her strength is still pretty low,” explained the dwarf Anduin had spoken to earlier that morning. “She’ll need to lie back down again after she eats, but you can talk to her until then.”

When Qiana saw them come in, her face lit up. She was sitting up at a table, slowly eating a bowl of steaming soup. “Prince Anduin,” she said, inclining her head to him. “Thank you for getting that horrible warlock’s voice out of my head. And King Varian, thank you for driving him away.”

Anduin shook his head, face burning at the praise he did not deserve. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “I should have waited until he was gone and then brought you here, then you wouldn’t have been unconscious for so long.” Pulling up a chair, he sat next to her and gave her an apologetic smile.

Qiana looked confused for a second, but then comprehension dawned. “Oh, you don’t know,” she said. “Well, I suppose you couldn’t. They called off the attack because of what you did. It wasn’t meant to damage you, only send a message. We were discovered, and they wanted to make sure you knew that.”

At that moment, Wrathion rushed in. Pushing past Varian without a second glance, he came up level with the table and slammed his hands down on the surface, nearly overturning Qiana’s bowl of soup. “Where’s Left?”

“Wrathion, calm down,” Anduin said at the same moment that Varian roughly shouldered him aside.

“Our scout has been through a bad experience,” Varian growled. “If you can’t stay quiet, you’ll have to leave.”

Wrathion glared daggers at Varian, but took a deep breath and tried again. “Left. The orc we sent you out with. I’ve been trying to contact her but she won’t answer. Do you know what they’ve done with her?”

Qiana thought for a minute, then nodded slowly. “I think so,” she said. “They separated us, but they were taking her farther down into the crypts. They said she had a communication spell on her, and they were going to monitor it.” Her eyes widened in comprehension. “I hope you haven’t told her anything that could help them, they’ll be listening to everything you say.”

“I’m not stupid,” Wrathion said. He turned to Varian. “I’m going after her. I would appreciate your cooperation, but do not require it.”

Varian glowered. “I think you’re misunderstanding the situation,” he said. “I am leading an attack on this foul nest of warlocks before they can cause any more trouble. We will try our best to get your agent out, but if you can’t keep a level head then we don’t need you.”

“I’m going,” Wrathion said again. Anduin sighed, getting ready for a long argument.

 

 


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a pretty bad week, the chapter is shamefully short as a result. Sorry about that. I'll try to update early next Saturday to make up for it.

Jaina had to admit that when Varian had invited her to a top-secret meeting to discuss the strategy for flushing out the Shadowmoon, she had expected fewer people to be there. Already Khadgar, Yrel, Wrathion and his bodyguard, and Qiana Moonshadow were present, packed into Varian’s room at the inn. If any more people were invited, the room would run out of space. She raised her eyebrows and nodded around the room, making polite eye contact with everybody. Khadgar had saved her a stool, so she took her spot near the door. “Quite the crowd,” she commented once she was settled. Khadgar let out an amused snort and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.

“It's about to get bigger,” he said. “Prince Anduin insisted that he should be allowed to attend. He's outside arguing with the king about it now.”

Jaina sighed wearily but couldn't help a small smile. Anduin's enthusiasm, for lack of a better word, had always been difficult to match. She doubted that anyone else in the room wanted to be there half as much as Stormwind’s young prince. Of course Anduin would get his way, he always did somehow, so there was a point past which Varian's tendency to push back became tiresome. If he could simply give in without such a prolonged fight, they might have already started discussions.

Sure enough, when Varian returned to his room, it was with a very self-satisfied Anduin trailing behind. He smiled brightly at the group and waved at Jaina once he'd noticed her. She waved back, trying not to look too amused. Just because Anduin was one of the only sources of humor left to her life didn't mean she should encourage him to continue his rebellion.

The scowl on Varian’s face could have been a response to Anduin’s winning the argument, but it could also have been a sign that bad news was incoming. Jaina watched him closely for any indication of which it was, and she saw most of the room doing the same. Only Wrathion looked oblivious, choosing instead to try for Anduin’s attention. Varian had deliberately arranged the seats so that Anduin was separated from his friend, and it looked like Wrathion was less than pleased with that. He kept making faces at Anduin to try and catch his eye, as if he wanted to communicate some kind of message. Which, Jaina decided, he probably did. Anduin’s presence at this meeting was certainly at least partially Wrathion’s doing. Even the promise that he might be slightly better behaved with his friend nearby would be enough incentive to include Anduin.

“We all know why we’re here,” Varian started. “But I’m going to explain anyway to make sure everyone is on the same page.” He cleared his throat and indicated Qiana. “We’ve just recovered one of our scouts from the Shadowmoon orcs. From what she tells us, the attack on Lunarfall the other night was intended as a warning. The warlocks were able to harness enough energy to have Admiral Taylor’s garrison destroyed, and they want to make sure that we know they can do the same to us. In short, they want us to back down. Of course, we won’t do that.” Pulling a piece of paper out of a pocket, he unfolded it and showed it around. “These are some numbers from current military reports, telling us how many troops we have at our disposal and where they are stationed. Given this information, it will take some time to amass sufficient forces for a siege on the catacombs. That’s time that we don’t have.”

Khadgar spoke up. “I’ve had some success sending small groups of heroes on similar operations,” he said. “Of course, this is assuming that our goal is to gain access to the catacombs and deal as much damage as possible. Is that right?”

“Not quite,” Varian answered, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t say no to causing some mayhem, but we can’t lose sight of the real goal. Ner’zhul is dangerous, and needs to be eliminated. All other concerns are secondary.”

Wrathion got to his feet, outrage written across his face. “One of my best agents is being held hostage,” he said loudly. “That isn’t a secondary concern. You haven’t even mentioned her, were you even going to try to set her free?”

“Sit down, Wrathion,” Khadgar said, almost matching him in volume. To Jaina’s surprise Wrathion complied, although he continued to stare at Varian with an accusatory gaze. Khadgar looked a little startled that Wrathion had listened to him as well, but he recovered quickly. “I’m sure that Varian hasn’t forgotten about your agent,” he continued. “Anyone who is sent on this mission can look for her on their way through the catacombs. We have the advantage, after all, of having with us someone who has recently escaped from the same place.” He gave Qiana a friendly smile. “Not that I’m suggesting she go back there, of course. I think she may need some more time to recuperate before going back out into danger’s way.”

Qiana nodded thoughtfully. “I understand what you mean,” she answered. “We were working on a map of the crypts before we were discovered, but…” She shrugged, looking down at the floor. “It got lost during the fight, and I am unsure how much of it I could recall from memory.”

“A general idea would be better than nothing,” Varian told her. “How big the place is, how many orcs to expect, anything to watch out for. If you can guess at where they might be keeping the rogue, we can of course do our best for her. I just don’t want anyone wandering off from the group and getting lost due to a deviation from the main objective. For that reason, and to avoid spreading the knowledge that we may be a target, I suggest that the invading party should consist of myself, Khadgar, Jaina, Yrel, and Qiana.” He sent Qiana an apologetic look. “I understand that you might not want to go back, but having someone there with at least a passing familiarity with the terrain would be a tremendous help.”

She didn’t answer him right away, instead exchanging glances with Yrel. Wrathion looked very much like he was about to have another outburst, and only the combined influence of Khadgar staring him down and Anduin subtly shaking his head was holding him back. The atmosphere in the room was not favorable, and Jaina cringed a little in pity for Varian. She understood his reasons for wanting to act immediately, and she saw the advantages of a covert operation rather than an all-out siege on an underground encampment full of orcs, but she didn’t care for his plan either. In particular, she disliked the idea of being included in the invading party. In an enclosed space, her most powerful magic spells would be nearly as dangerous to allies as they were to enemies.

“The two of us were injured during the attack,” Yrel said, gesturing between herself and Qiana. “We have mostly recovered, but are you certain there is nobody better?”

“I’m sure,” Varian answered. “You’ve both been indispensable to the Lunarfall campaign, and I trust your abilities. Jaina and Khadgar are the most powerful magic users we have. If there are no objections, we’ll set out first thing in the morning.”

Jaina waited for the protest from Wrathion, but he stayed silent. When she looked at him she saw him gazing at the floor, seemingly paying no more attention to Varian. Moments passed in silence, and the meeting was dismissed without further discussion.

* * *

 

The first thing Anduin did when he got back to his room was open the window. He had been keeping it shut since the Shadowmoon invasion out of a vague, creeping sense of paranoia, but he needed to talk to Wrathion and hoped that the open window might serve as an invitation. The look he’d seen on Wrathion’s face during his father’s explanation of the plan was familiar to him, it was the look of someone who had just decided to ignore their alliances and act on their own. He hoped that they could talk about it before Wrathion did something reckless, wanted to believe that his input would be sought out. Still, he felt predominantly relief when Wrathion climbed over the windowsill and into his room an hour later.

“I thought you might not come,” he said, going over to double check that the door was locked. If Wrathion was really planning to follow the attacking party when they left in the morning, as Anduin was certain he was, he would be in the midst of getting all his things together and restocking on supplies for a trip.

“That wasn’t very smart of you,” Wrathion said critically. He turned to pull the window closed behind him, and spoke more to the glass than to Anduin. “I never unpacked, so everything I have is ready to go. Your father and the others are leaving by air in the morning, so I’m going to fly after them. I don’t have to worry about securing transportation. Even if I didn’t have time to see you, I hope you know that I would make time.”

He was really going to go. Anduin had known it, but he’d still been holding out hope that Wrathion might choose to stay behind, send Right in his place and remain with Anduin in the relative safety of the garrison. Without Wrathion, with his father and Jaina both gone, it would be very lonely. And, of course, he would worry. It was a dangerous proposal, walking into the Shadowmoon crypts. They had no idea how many members the clan boasted, or what kind of dark rituals they were practicing. Ner’zhul was the target, but he was far from the only danger. Privately, Anduin had given up thinking that getting Left back alive was an option. It was still possible, if just barely, but it was more likely that she was already dead. He would not say as much to Wrathion, who he was sure already knew the odds.

“What is Right going to do?” he asked. Wrathion couldn’t carry her, especially not that distance. She was as grounded as Anduin, but he doubted that Wrathion would be willing to leave her behind.

Wrathion rolled his eyes, like the answer was obvious. “Steal a gryphon, of course. The stables are full, and most of those poor animals have been penned up there for weeks. Whichever one she takes will appreciate the exercise.” He sat down and sighed, his expression turning serious. “You know that if I could take you with me, I would? If I were big enough to carry a passenger I would never even think of leaving you here.”

“I know.” Anduin sat next to him and picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. “I could go with Right and take a gryphon too.” He knew as he suggested it that it wouldn’t work, two people stealing two gryphons would increase Right’s chances of being caught.

“I wish you could.” Wrathion reached out to grab his hand. “But it’s probably for the best that you stay here anyway. I know you hate hearing it, but it’s better to stay safe.” Then he gave Anduin a wry smile. “Not that anyone could stop you if you decided to follow after us anyway, right? You know where we’re going and how to get there.”

He had a point, and Anduin immediately saw what he was trying to do. There was no way that an organized rescue party could leave Lunarfall all at once without attracting attention, especially if one of the members was the Prince of Stormwind. But if the timing was staggered, if he stayed back and really thought about it, he could find an excuse to go. Or he could fake a departure for Stormwind. He would have more time to strategize, and could arrive later with supplies that those leaving earlier might not have thought to bring. There were lots of options for him, and his spirits lifted to know that Wrathion had not intended to leave him.

The need for indirect communication was explained a moment later, as footsteps sounded in the hall. His father was back from making preparations. “I hear voices,” he called through the door. “Is someone in there with you?” A hand tried the door, and found it locked. That wasn’t good, Varian would know that Anduin usually left his door open.

Anduin scrambled briefly for an excuse, then decided not to bother. Nothing objectionable was going on right that moment, so there was no reason for him to worry. “Wrathion’s here,” he replied. “He wanted to talk.”

Which meant there was no reason for the door to be locked, except that he just really hadn’t wanted anybody else arriving with more to worry about. He could hear the suspicion in Varian’s voice when he replied. “Are you sure that’s all?” Varian asked, more a warning than a question. “He’s not drawing you into any more ill-advised schemes?”

Several, Anduin thought. Every day. Everything he did with Wrathion was ill-advised. He could tell that Wrathion was thinking the same thing, the gleam of a shared joke had appeared in his eyes. Anduin sighed and broke his gaze away, remembering that his father was still standing right outside, waiting for a response. “I’m sure,” he said. “We’re just worried. I don’t want anyone getting hurt, and Wrathion is anxious to see his guard returned to him.”

“Commiseration doesn’t require a locked door,” Varian grumbled. “Finish your talk and get him out of here, I still have preparations to make and I don’t want him lurking around.”

Anduin rolled his eyes, but moved to open the door. Wrathion followed, his hand still in Anduin’s. “Good luck,” he whispered, leaning in and gently touching their foreheads together. “Try not to miss me too terribly.”

Trying and failing to suppress a laugh, Anduin pushed him off. “You too,” he said, opening the door to usher Wrathion out. “I’ll see you later.” 


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's on time for once! 
> 
> This chapter brings the fic up past 180K words, which is approximately 170K words more than I thought I was going to spend on it, haha.

Varian Wrynn departed with his group in the early hours of the morning, long before the sky began to lighten. Wrathion had sat up most of the night, hiding out in his chosen perch on the roof of the stables and watching the gryphons that were housed there with a wary eye. He had dozed off a few times, slipping down into half-consciousness but always keeping his eyes trained on the pens, watchful even through his trances. It was the only rest he would afford himself, and he would need to be rested before taking off on the long flight to follow. Gryphons were strong and fast, he knew it would be a challenge to keep up with them at full speed.

When the king and his chosen companions began to arrive, Wrathion shook himself back into wakefulness. The window of time that Right would have to steal a gryphon for herself was very small, especially if they wanted to keep the advance party in sight while they traveled. He had studied a map of Shadowmoon and knew roughly where they were going, but for all he knew the entrance to the crypts would be well-hidden. It would be easier if they could see where the others landed, and track them from there.

Right didn’t miss her opportunity. She never did, but Wrathion could never quite stop himself from planning for the alternative outcomes. The flock of gryphons took off with a series of loud screeches and the beating of wings, and sailed over the garrison wall into the surrounding forest. Before the last tufted tail had vanished into the canopy, Right had already made her move. She darted out from her hiding spot nearby and approached one of the remaining gryphons, offering it a brief but gentle greeting to soothe its nervousness over her sudden appearance. As an experienced rider, it hardly took her any time at all to grab a saddle off the stable wall and get the gryphon ready to fly. Wrathion sat up and stretched his wings in anticipation. When she took off, he flew up to meet her, and they left the garrison together before the night watchmen could complete their next round.

Wrathion took a deep breath of the cool air and tried to remember to pace himself. It was tempting to fly ahead of Right’s gryphon in pursuit of the others he could see some distance away. If he did that, however, he would tire himself out quickly. More importantly, he might be discovered before it was too late for Varian to make him turn back. He had to pace himself. It would be worth it in the end, when he had Left back at his side and Ner’zhul’s head burning to a crisp. Finally, he had a way to directly confront an enemy. He would not let it go to waste.

Determination was an incredible motivator, but it could only carry him so far. He was no stranger to long-distance flights, and in fact considered himself something of a prodigy at them. The journey he had taken to Pandaria had been largely unassisted, and over a vast ocean with few places to stop and rest. This was a much shorter trip, but the large wingspans and powerful muscles of the gryphons he was trailing meant that he needed to sustain a speed that he would normally consider a sprint. It wasn’t long at all before his wings began to tire and his breath started coming in shorter gasps. Right would let him ride with her if it became necessary, but he truly hadn’t thought that he would need to take advantage of such a concession.

He would need to swallow his pride soon if he didn’t get a break. Surely King Varian did not intend to fly all the way to the crypts in a single shot? Gryphons might be strong but they were also intelligent, not looking kindly on riders who treated them as mere beasts of burden. Varian would have to land his flock sometime, to make sure that the gryphons had enough food and water to keep going, and to rest their riders. The only question was if Wrathion could keep following that long. Already the figures of the gryphons ahead were growing smaller and more distant, he could no longer pick out individual riders from their mounts. Right would never ask him to give up and ride double on her mount, but she was steering it in wide arcs around him to help him keep pace. Humiliating. Wrathion growled and threw himself into the flight with renewed energy, ignoring the burning in his wings. He wondered what Anduin was up to. Still sleeping, probably.

Varian’s group angled downward over an hour later, when they were barely specks on the horizon. Wrathion forced himself to keep flying onward for several minutes in a vain attempt to catch up, but soon gave up and called out to Right that they were stopping. His voice barely carried over the sound of her gryphon’s wingbeats, but she got the message when he began his descent. He’d spotted a small grove of trees down below, a good place to rest and keep watch from. The landing was rough, his wings were not up to a smooth descent, and he fell down onto his side in the grass without caring that Right was watching him.

“Maybe you should sit with me and hang onto the saddle,” she said eventually, when she had tethered up her gryphon and given it some water and Wrathion still had not moved.

He heaved a sigh, which was barely noticeable under his panting. “I’ll slow your gryphon down.” That was true, but near the end of their last flight he had been going more slowly than a gryphon would even with the extra weight.

“Just stay like that,” Right said. “Put those talons to use holding on. You barely weigh enough to make a difference in that form, the gryphon won’t notice anything.” She sat down, leaning back against a tree and keeping her eye on the point on the horizon where they had seen Varian’s team last.

Wrathion didn’t dignify that with a response. He knew it was the best course of action, it was probably what he was going to do, but she didn’t need to be so matter-of-fact about it. The day where he could carry his guards instead of the other way around couldn’t come soon enough. Instead, he turned to planning. “When we get there, I’m going to follow Wrynn and his team as closely as possible while they clear the tunnels. I want you to hang back and make sure nothing sneaks up on us, and when I find Left you’ll be in charge of evacuating her. I’ll call for you.”

“You think it will be that bad?” Right asked. Wrathion could her the worry in her voice only because he had known her for so long.

“I don’t know what to expect,” he said honestly, ruffling his wings in an approximation of a shrug. “For all we know, the Shadowmoon have their whole clan down there. The place could be swarming with orcs. And since Left can’t answer me when I try to contact her, I have no way of knowing what kind of condition she’s in.” He paused to let the unpleasant thoughts sink in, then felt compelled to try reassuring Right somehow. “I do know she’s alive,” he said. “The enchantment on her gem would break otherwise. She’s alive, and not in great distress. We will find her.”

Unless the Shadowmoon clan got wind that a rescue mission was underway and decided she was more trouble than she was worth to keep around. Wrathion didn’t voice that thought to Right but he could tell she was thinking it too. “Better keep moving,” he said, standing up with some effort and climbing up into the saddle of Right’s gryphon. To the gryphon’s credit, it hardly reacted to having a young dragon clinging to it. Right nodded and stood up. They would try to gain some ground on Varian’s group, so they could get into the crypts and hopefully locate Left before there was too much commotion.

* * *

 

Anduin woke early, but not early enough to see his father off. Wrathion would be gone too, and he tried to ignore the gnawing worry deep down in his chest. At most, they had a few hours’ head start on him. If anything went wrong during their attack on Ner’zhul, then he… would be too far away to realistically do anything or help in any way. He stopped midway through getting dressed to ask himself what in the name of the Light he thought he was doing. It would be more productive of him to get it over with and go back to Stormwind now, start doing what he could to manage the backlog of royal duties that were certain to be piling up with his father away.

He let himself consider it for just a moment. The mages at Lunarfall maintained a one-way portal to the island of Ashran, where he knew there were similar portals to each major Alliance city. He could be home by lunchtime. Then he shook his head and kept pulling on his boots. It wouldn’t do any good for him to leave. As the Crown Prince he did have some authority in Stormwind while his father was gone, and it wasn’t like he was unfamiliar with the duties of a king, but the most he could do would be to organize and plan. Nothing happened in Stormwind unless Varian Wrynn signed off on it.

Before heading to the stables he took a detour to grab some bandages, alcohol, and various other medical supplies from the medics. He felt a little guilty stuffing the pilfered equipment into his bag like a common thief, but he reassured himself that he had only taken things that were in good supply. Barring a major catastrophe, nothing would be missed. Looking around nervously, he tapped his knuckles softly off a nearby chair. Those kinds of thoughts felt risky, even if he didn’t believe in the superstition behind them. With any luck he would be back here in a day or two, and then he could return any unused supplies and apologize to the healers personally.

The stable master was awake and at work already, tending to the mounts housed there. He seemed in a foul mood, and Anduin thought he could guess why. Five gryphons were scheduled to be taken for the expedition, but six stalls were empty. “Good morning,” Anduin said, careful to be extra polite. “Are there any gryphons I could take for a ride?”

“What for?” the stable master asked him. He eyed Anduin’s backpack. “We’re under orders to keep you here at the garrison. Can’t just hand you the reins and let you fly off on one of your adventures.”

Anduin didn’t even know this man. Did he really have that much of a reputation? He sighed, trying to think on his feet. “It’s food,” he said eventually. “I thought I’d go up on one of the hills and have a picnic. Isn’t much else for me to do right now, and I wanted to take my mind off worrying about everyone.” He pulled a sandwich out of the pack, lunch for that day, and showed it to the stable master to demonstrate.

“That’s a lot of food for one person,” said the stable master with an amused smile.

Anduin had been trying to pack light, knowing that he likely wouldn’t be away long, but the medical supplies did add a certain weight to his bag. “I’m still growing?” he tried. “You know how it is, always hungry.” He gripped his bag slightly tighter, praying that the stable master wouldn’t ask to see inside of it. If he’d left earlier with Wrathion this wouldn’t be a problem, he should have insisted.

The stable master sighed. “There’s one in stall five,” he said. “You can take her out on one condition. I have one missing, looks like he broke the lock on his stall sometime in the night. Keep an eye out for him, would you? I was going to go looking for him after I finish cleaning the stalls, but I’d like to get someone out there as soon as possible. He probably hasn’t gone far.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Anduin promised, nodding seriously and trying not to laugh. He knew exactly where the missing gryphon was, and if he got his way then he would be the one to return him, a bit late but none the worse for wear. “Thank you very much!” he called over his shoulder as he hurried over to the indicated stall. He was eager to get going before the stable master changed his mind.

The gryphon he’d been pointed to was small, about the same size as the one he had back home, but it was immediately apparent that she had much less tolerance for unfamiliar riders. She raised her wings and hissed at him the moment he went to unlatch her stall door, and he had to pause outside and speak gently to her before she calmed down enough to permit him inside with her. He had no idea how he was going to get a saddle on her back, much less a rider, but if he had to go back to the stable master and ask for help then he might change his mind about allowing Anduin to take her. Feeling slightly lost,Anduin looked around the stable for inspiration.

His gaze landed on a bag that was hanging up on the wall far out of reach of any of the stalled animals. The gryphon keepers back home had something similar hanging up in the royal stable, and there the hanging bag had contained treats. Little bits of raw meat, cooked scraps if there was leftover meat from a royal banquet, sometimes small animals that were caught in traps around the castle. Disgusting, but a good way to keep a large predator’s attention or bond with one that was unsure. His new gryphon followed his gaze and made a sound almost like a laugh. The end of her tail twitched, thumping loudly against the stall wall, and she watched him with the bright, intelligent eyes of all gryphons. Of course.

Gryphons could not speak, but they were very smart, perhaps as smart as humans. Perhaps even smarter, for Anduin didn’t see _them_ tidying up after their riders or serving them meals every day. They were also very proud creatures, unlikely to do something for nothing. This gryphon was offering him a deal. Bring her some snacks, and she would listen to what he had to ask of her.

After offering his gryphon a few pieces of dried jerky, he was able to secure the saddle and reins. “All right,” he told her quietly, looking around to make sure that the stable master wasn’t listening in. “I said I was just going out for an afternoon in the hills, but I actually need to go a little farther than that. My father left this morning with some of my friends, do you think you could take me to them?”

The gryphon squawked and flapped her wings a few times but did not try to chase him out of the stall, so he interpreted that as a yes. It must get boring, he thought, for such a strong, aerial creature to be inside for so much of every day. He had to locate a step stool to be able to swing his leg over, and it was more of a struggle than he would have liked with such an excitable gryphon, but he managed to get mounted without tumbling down onto the floor. Then, after a moment to catch his breath, he took hold of the reins and guided her out of the stable to take off.

* * *

 

Nearing the place where he knew the crypts were, Anduin leaned over and patted his gryphon’s neck to catch her attention. “If you see any other Lunarfall gryphons down there, try to land near them.” He had no hope of spotting them with his eyes, and even though he knew roughly where he was going he didn’t want to stumble into a trap. If he was going to get in trouble, he would rather do it somewhere he could be reasonably sure of his father and Wrathion finding him soon. It had been morning when he’d set off and now it was late afternoon, he wanted to figure out where he was going before nightfall. The Shadowmoon orcs, he had heard, were more active during the night. There would be no room for uncertainty.

The gryphon gave no indication that she’d heard him, but several minutes later she screeched and folded her wings into a steep dive. Anduin let out a strangled yelp and clung on for dear life, hoping that she hadn’t just decided to throw him off. It would be a terrible way to die, falling from the back of his mount while entering enemy territory on a rescue mission. He wouldn’t even have had the chance to assist with the rescuing yet. He shut his eyes tightly to block out the rushing air and willed himself not to let go. After what felt like an hour but was probably only a few seconds, the gryphon’s wings came back out to slow her descent and she landed gracefully on a small hill.

Anduin opened his eyes carefully, not quite ready to believe that he was safe on solid ground. A cluster of moths had been disturbed by the sudden landing and were flying around in crazed circles, and not a hundred feet away were the other six Lunarfall gryphons, resting in the shade under some small trees. They were tethered, but not tightly enough that they could not pull themselves free if they had to, and many of them lifted their heads to chirp out a greeting to the new arrivals. Anduin sighed in relief, and when his gryphon kneeled for him to dismount he slid off gratefully and fell in an undignified heap on the ground.

“You can go back, if you want to,” he told her. “It might be dangerous here so you don’t have to wait for me. I can get back with my father once we’re finished here.”

The gryphon’s neck feathers puffed up and she squawked disapprovingly, as if the very thought of returning to her roost without the rider she set off with was offensive to her. Alliance mounts had similar ideas trained into them as did the soldiers, although generally the animal trainers kept it simpler. Never leave an ally behind except in cases of dire emergency. Anduin smiled, appreciating the consideration. He lay still another minute, recovering from his recent fright and trying to decide which way to go. When he got up he started out by scrutinizing the ground, with the vague idea that he might find some trace of the others. He had learned some basics about tracking from Wrathion, but it wasn’t enough to pick out a trail left by expert fighters who were trying to be stealthy.

He was about to try asking one of the gryphons for help tracing the others when he stopped, having thought he heard something. After a few seconds, he heard it again. It was quiet, but it sounded almost like someone calling him. He stiffened in alarm before remembering that any orcs who might be preparing to ambush him probably would not be so considerate as to give him advance warning like that. “Hello?” he called, looking around him for any sign that he hadn’t just been hearing things.

“Over here!” A furry head and shoulders rose up over the crest of the hill. Qiana in cat form. Anduin knew he was in trouble now, but he couldn’t help breaking into a smile at the sight of her. He picked up his bag and hurried over.

“You haven’t gone inside the crypts yet?” he asked, looking for the others but failing to spot them.

Qiana shook her head. “They’re inside all right. I had to go back out. We ran into a large group of orcs, and I re-injured myself fighting them off. Yrel patched me up, but decided I should wait outside.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s also when your dragon friend showed up, so we knew you’d be following along soon enough. Your father gave me instructions to smack you in the head and drag you back to Lunarfall.” She raised one large paw menacingly.

Anduin took a step back. “Let’s not be hasty,” he said. “You don’t know that I mean to go inside, I could just be here to help Wrathion heal Left when he gets her out.”

The lie fell flat even to his own ears, and Qiana didn’t even pretend to believe it. “Don’t worry, your highness,” she said. “I’m not really going to do that. Truth be told, I’m glad you’re here.” Her ears went back and she hesitated. “Yrel is a competent healer when it comes to common injuries. Twisted ankles, scratches from sparring, that sort of thing. But she’s tired, and has more of an aptitude for combat. I don’t think it’s a good idea for your father to rely on an exhausted paladin to keep them alive if things go badly. You may be a beginner, but I’m told you have a lot of power and I saw some of it firsthand when you pulled Ner’zhul out of my head.”

“So you’ll show me how to get in?” Anduin asked. He couldn’t quite believe that was what she was saying.

“It goes against my better judgment to send a child into that place,” Qiana answered, “but yes, I will. There’s a back entrance that doesn’t see much activity from our enemies.” She started walking, and Anduin followed her. “The dragon prince’s other guard stayed behind to cover the exit,” she explained as she walked. “When you arrive she can direct you on the correct path, so that you can find your father and avoid stumbling into any enemies. Please do your best to bring everyone out alive.”

“I will,” Anduin promised, swallowing his nervousness. The crypts must truly be an awful place, for Qiana to sound so grim. He followed her down into an opening in the hillside, holding tightly to Fearbreaker as the darkness closed in around him.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! I ran this dungeon to make sure I got the aesthetics and mobs right, but I am of course taking some liberties with how it is structured. My version of the Shadowmoon Burial Grounds is larger and more labyrinthine than the one you'll find in-game.

Taking his first steps down into the tunnel was disorienting. It sloped downward and there was a sharp left turn almost immediately, blocking out the light that shone in from the entrance and leaving Anduin in total darkness. He slowed his pace and moved forward cautiously, testing each step before committing to it so as not to stumble over any unseen obstacles in his path. He kept his hand on the wall to orient himself, wondering how the Shadowmoon orcs found their way around in such a place. They would need a night vision spell, or echolocation. Abruptly his hand touched something cold and metallic that stuck out from the wall, and he jumped in alarm before realizing what it was. An unused torch mount, drilled into the stone. That answered that question. This tunnel must not see much use, or he was sure it would be illuminated.

That left him with two options, neither of which were appealing. It would be safer to stay in the unlit areas of the tunnels and periodically find his way to more heavily-trafficked tunnels to look for signs of the invading party. His chances of encountering enemies were lessened that way, but in such total darkness he was helpless. Any guards patrolling this unused exit tunnel would have the advantage of knowing the terrain, and likely would be carrying torches with them. The other option, of course, was to make his way to a main tunnel as soon as possible and locate his father. There was safety in numbers, a group would be the most effective defense against roaming guards. However, since the illuminated tunnels were busier, taking one would increase the chances that he would run into enemies before he met up with his friends.

Qiana had told him that Right was somewhere nearby, but that didn’t help him. Either she was further along in the tunnel or she was hiding her presence from him, and if she didn’t want to be seen he was sure that she had a good reason for it. If only the last person to come this way had left an extinguished torch in the mount. In a place like this, Anduin supposed that sources of illumination were too valuable to waste. Lighting the way with a spell would make him stand out, if he could find a torch then he might be taken for just another orc at a distance. And it would be safer. His toe caught a crack in the floor and he stumbled, barely holding back a yelp of surprise.

Enough of this. He would find a tunnel with some light in it and take his chances. If he had to waste his time feeling around like an ant separated from its colony then he would never catch up to his father. When he managed to fumble his way to a fork in the tunnel, he followed a gut feeling and took the branch that sloped downward most steeply. What better place than underground to hide all the most carefully-guarded secrets of clan known for being reclusive and thriving in darkness? He thought he heard a slight laugh away in the darkness behind him as he began hesitantly making his way downward, at times almost sliding on the smooth rock. So Right was with him after all, or maybe one of the spirits that was said to haunt the burial grounds had taken a liking to him. Either way, it felt better to know that he was not entirely alone.

The tunnel he was following felt old, and it curved and twisted around so frequently that he could see why it was not in use. Aside from that, it was narrow. Sometimes he wondered if he should turn back, remembering stories of how abandoned mines on Azeroth sometimes collapsed in older sections and trapped diggers within the rock. But that was different, he reassured himself as he pressed on. There were no kobolds in this tunnel to dig away at the rocks and gnaw on supports. This clan of orcs had been burying their dead in these catacombs for generations, and if there were any structural problems he was sure they would not have chosen to relocate some of their population to live inside.

Those thoughts were less reassuring than they would have liked, since they reinforced the danger of encountering wandering orcs in the tunnels, but he was still relieved when he found an opening into a lighted area. On closer inspection, it seemed that his pathway had narrowed enough that the exit amounted only to a small crack in a paved wall, unnoticeable from the outside unless someone was standing directly in front of it. Anduin popped his head out and looked around, taking in a small room with lit braziers burning in opposite corners and deep openings dug into the wall. Resting places, he realized, for orc bodies.

Pulling his head back into the relative security of his hiding place, Anduin let out a long breath. He didn’t like catacombs. The church at Stormwind housed some smaller ones underneath, and even as a child he had been nervous to even peer down the stairs toward them. Death was natural, and not his enemy, but his work was pulling people back from it. He didn’t like to see corpses. Even old ones just made him think of how the owner of those bones might have had a family in life, or friends to mourn over them. A place for the dead was no place for a healer.

It wasn’t just that, either. The entire place was making his skin crawl. The Shadowmoon orcs had been tampering with some very dark magics down here, and it had saturated the rocks. Anduin knew a few Shadow spells, they could be useful in certain situations, but he always felt uneasy when he used them too much. It felt like they drained his soul like a battery, while using the Light only filled him with energy. Here in the darkness, where the only light came from flickering flames as tainted as the oil they fed on, he felt obvious and exposed. In the same way that anyone would notice a candle in a dark room, he had the sensation that many of the presences within the catacombs were aware of him.

Another quick look out, and the room was much the same. He saw nothing moving and heard no footsteps nearby. “Right?” he whispered, taking a guess that it was her and not a spirit who had been tailing him. “Are you with me?”

His guess paid off. She materialized in the shadows beside him, scowling at him. “Don’t make noise.”

Anduin nodded in apology. At least now he knew he wasn’t going the wrong way. Even if he didn’t know where the others were, he was sure that the gem Right carried would tell her exactly where to go to find Wrathion. He squeezed through the opening and out into the room, taking the opportunity to stretch his arms out after creeping through a cramped tunnel.

His foot struck a stray bone on the floor, and a mournful sob rang out from thin air. Anduin jumped back, eyes widening, as the bone began to glow and a spirit slowly manifested from it. An elderly orc, his back stooped and a beard down to his chest. He seemed to look right at Anduin and stare through him both at once, and he was crying out loudly in Orcish.

This orc was far beyond his help, but Anduin reached out to him anyway. “I don’t understand what you’re saying,” he said. “Do you need something?”

A sob was his only answer. The orc held out his hands, tears running down his face, and then the spirit dissipated. Anduin crouched and picked the bone up, but nothing else happened. He looked to see where it had fallen from, in the hopes of returning it to its resting place, but as he scanned the room his heart sank. This bone was one of many, all pulled from their graves and scattered haphazardly around the room. No doubt for use in necromancy. He set it back down as gently as he could, a slow rage beginning to spread in his gut. Necromancy was already a vile practice, but for the Shadowmoon to be using their own dead for it…

Right broke him out of his vengeful thoughts. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “There’s a lot of spirits down here. Nobody will have even noticed the noise.”

That wasn’t what Anduin was worried about. “Did you understand any of it?” he asked. Right spoke some Orcish, he knew. He’d never been able to figure out how much.

She shrugged. “They’re all the same. The light is gone, the chieftain has gone mad. His family is gone and he doesn’t know how to find them.” Starting for the doorway, Right beckoned for Anduin to follow her. “Leave the ghosts alone. You can’t help them. We need to focus on finding the ones who are still alive.”

* * *

 

They passed many ghosts as they descended further into the burial grounds. Some wailed, some spoke, and some just shuffled by silently. Anduin tried to keep Right’s words close in his mind. A powerful dark power was anchoring them all here, the best way to set them free would be to cut it off. Dealing with each individual spirit as they encountered it would be impossible, and they still needed to find Left. Wrathion was communicating with Right, giving her suggestions on places she could look, but so far their searching had yielded no results. The rooms within the elaborate tomb contained no living prisoners.

As they moved on, they had begun to encounter more than ancient skeletons and grieving spirits. There were fresh bodies littering the stairs, all wearing the robes of warlocks. In some places the dark energy was so thick Anduin felt as if he could choke on it, and in one alcove he found an explanation for the feeling. Summoning shackles, the remnants of a void creature that had been called up, lying broken on the ground. Right scoffed at him for it, but he refused to even enter that room. Summoning spells so far underground were more dangerous than direct assaults on the structural integrity of the tombs. There was no telling when an overzealous warlock might call up a being that proved too powerful to control, and escape options were limited.

At the bottom of yet another set of endless stairs, they found themselves on a circular platform build out into a pool. Anduin longed to take his boots off and cool his legs in the water. So many stairs meant that they had long since begun flaring up into real pain. The need to keep moving stopped him, as did his mistrust for anything in these caverns, no matter how beautiful it looked. He just sighed and kept walking, and bumped into Right, who had stopped to look at something on the ground. Anduin backed up with a quiet apology and looked around her. There was a lone orc lying in the center of the room, obviously dead.

Frowning, Anduin stepped forward to inspect the body. She bore the wounds of a ferocious struggle, but it was unusual that she should be the only remaining indication of such a battle. When they had encountered other signs that Varian and his group had come through a certain way, there had always been multiple defeated enemies. If this one orc had challenged the entire invading party, she must have been very strong indeed. Very strong and very certain of her abilities.

Right received confirmation from Wrathion only seconds after asking her question. They had encountered a very powerful priestess and had fought tooth and nail to defeat her. “He says not to linger here,” she told Anduin. “There was a vast ritual taking place here to trap the souls of the dead, and he’s sure that someone will have noticed that it stopped. They went farther down into that tunnel, and they’re resting before carrying onward.” She pointed down an unpaved pathway. “We are to check the side passages for any signs of Left while the Black Prince moves forward with the group.”

“Not even here and he’s still trying to boss us around,” Anduin commented with an exaggerated sigh. In truth, he was glad to delay their progress down this new tunnel. It was covered in spider webs and the pathway was roughly carved, showing little sign that the Shadowmoon orcs came this way often. He didn’t like to think about what might be at the end of it to warrant such avoidance.

Right walked past the first side passage without even seeing it, and Anduin would have missed it too if the leg of his pants hadn’t snagged on a root right in front of it. He called her back, flinching at the volume. She had warned him not to make noise, and probably would have turned around once she realized he was no longer with her, but she didn’t scold him for it. Both of them were feeling the oppressive power of so much void magic. Finding Left was starting to feel like a race against time.

After a moment’s consideration, Right pushed past Anduin to head down the passage first. The tunnel behind them was quiet as the grave, but there was no telling what lay ahead. She carefully unsheathed her daggers and gripped them tightly as she moved forward. Anduin cleared his mind in preparation for spellcasting in case they were ambushed. The walls of the passage were too narrow for either of them to comfortably bring a torch inside from the main tunnel, and they would both need their hands in case of a fight. The tension grew with every step, and dissipated anticlimactically as the passage ended in a small, round room with nothing but a few scattered bones and skittering spiders.

In the next side tunnel they found more of the same, but the one after that was different. The moment they entered it they could hear something scraping at the end of it. It wasn’t a loud scrape, just the slight sound of something solid moving against the dirt floor of the tunnel. There was no telling if it was caused by something living, or if it was just rock shifting. Anduin exchanged a look with Right, wondering if they should call out in case it was Left. Right shook her head and motioned for him to stay close. Anduin nodded and stepped forward so that he was almost pressed up against her back, knowing that the farther they went inside the harder it would be to see her even as close as he was.

Like the others, the passageway opened up into a small, unlit room. Unlike the others, there was somebody inside. But it wasn’t Left. The warlock barely had time to begin chanting his incantation before Right was on him, pinning him to the wall and slashing out blindly with a dagger until he fell slumped to the floor. The bones he had been trying to reassemble into an animate minion clattered once, then twice, and then fell still again. Anduin whispered a quick blessing to them before following Right back out again, ignoring her sigh of impatience. It felt like the right thing to do, and the right thing was worth spending time on.

They encountered no more warlocks, but several stops down they stumbled into a room with a sturdy cage built into the wall. Anduin’s heart had leapt at the sight of it, but when he rushed forward he found that the door was open and it was empty. Right came to stand beside him, and after a a moment’s contemplation she knelt down to examine it more closely. Anduin stood nervously by her shoulder, uncertain what to say. If this was where Left had been housed she certainly wasn’t here anymore, and that could not possibly be a good sign.

“No damage to the lock or the hinges,” Right said at last, standing back up. “There are scrapes on the bars from either a dagger or very long claws. Perhaps this was where they kept Moonshadow.”

“Perhaps,” Anduin agreed. He hadn’t asked Qiana for the details of her imprisonment, having been unwilling to stir up the memories. This looked like a cage that would hold a powerful animal. He hoped that they weren’t just clinging to a false hope. If Qiana had been imprisoned in this chamber, then chances were high that Left would be kept nearby. If not, then their search hadn’t narrowed at all, and Left could be anywhere. “Let’s keep moving,” he said, leading the way back out of the chamber.

* * *

 

 Varian roared as he charged headlong into the group of warlocks after Wrathion, fuming at the arrogant whelp and his recklessness. This was at least the tenth time he’d had to save Wrathion’s neck, and it wouldn’t happen at all if he would only stop darting ahead. They needed to slow down, Khadgar and Jaina were draining their mana reserves and Yrel’s healing could not keep up with the demands it was being subjected to. And yet every time he was pressed, Wrathion insisted that they were doing fine and that it would be better to keep moving as quickly as possible so that they did not give their enemies time to organize a proper defense.

He had a point, but the Shadowmoon clan would not need a proper defense if their attacks ran themselves ragged while deep inside the burial grounds. Varian swung with all his might and brought his sword down on the collarbone of a skeleton that was reaching out to grab Wrathion’s throat with its bony fingers. The skeleton shattered and Wrathion finished off its conjurer, not noticing how close he had come to sustaining a severe injury. “You owe me,” Varian growled and doubted that Wrathion could even hear him. The way he got lost in himself during these skirmishes was alarming, not least because Varian had experienced that state himself during the most unstable times in his life.

Anduin, at least, had better appreciate the lengths he was going to in order to keep everyone, Wrathion included, safe. The fight was a quick one, but not everyone got out unharmed and Varian called a halt for recovery. He had twisted his wrist blocking a strike from a skeleton, and one of the warlocks had gotten a direct hit on Jaina with a bolt of shadow magic. As he had every time before, Wrathion reacted to the stop with an impatient sigh and went to lean sullenly against the wall further down the tunnel.

Varian decided right then that he’d had just about enough of that attitude. As soon as he was mended enough to be able to turn his wrist without pain, he motioned for Yrel to see to Jaina and went to where Wrathion was staring down the tunnel, getting into his line of vision and folding his arms. “We wouldn’t have to keep stopping if you would stick with the group.”

“I wouldn’t be in such a hurry if you weren’t all going so damnably slow,” Wrathion replied. “For the leader of a stealth operation, you’re certainly allowing a lot of time for our enemies to sound the alarm.”

“We go the speed we are capable of,” said Varian. “If you try to push us faster, that’s when accidents happen. Or have you not noticed that I’ve saved your life so many times today that I’ve stopped counting?” He grit his teeth and took a deep breath. They were in a long tunnel where sounds echoed and enemies could be hiding around every corner. He would not shout.

“It’s not my life that needs saving,” Wrathion spat bitterly. “But you don’t care about that as long as your soldiers are out of danger. If Moonshadow were still a captive, you would be hurrying just as much as I am to clear out the crowds so Right could find her too.”

Varian frowned. It was true that Wrathion’s orc guard had done little to endear herself to him during their stay at Lunarfall, but he liked to think that he was not ignoring her situation. Thinking of anyone being held prisoner in a place like this made him uneasy, of course he wanted to help. “We’ll try to go a little faster,” he conceded. “In return, you need to stop charging ahead. We lose more time stopping to recover from fights we weren’t prepared for than we make up going at your pace. And you need to let me engage enemies first,” he concluded, punctuating it with a stern look. “Only one of us is wearing plate armor, and it’s not you.”

“Armor is for humans to worry about,” Wrathion said, looking over Varian’s carefully polished battle armor with a judgmental sniff. Nevertheless, he nodded, and when they set off again he made a point of hanging back and hovering just beyond Varian’s peripheral vision in a transparent effort to irritate him. It worked.

Fortunately they were spared further arguments about pace. The tunnel had been sparsely occupied to begin with, but now it seemed deserted. At first the group took it as a boon, a much-needed break from battling their way through enemy forces. However, the more minutes ticked by without signs of life, the more nervous everyone became. Wrathion stopped his lurking, direction his attention instead to looking around them. He was on high alert, tense and quiet. Jaina and Khadgar were both fiddling with their wands in a way that made Varian even more uncomfortable, considering that they were pointing in the general direction of his back. Giving in to the atmosphere, he unsheathed his sword and adjusted his stance to be more solid on his feet.

Not a moment too soon, for as they turned a corner they all caught a glimpse of the reason the Shadowmoon orcs were avoiding this place. A massive void creature, with tendrils extending from its ever-shifting body and reaching for every wall of the large chamber, hovered ominously near the back wall. Its attention was focused on a number of orc spirits that lingered around the room, all of which appeared to be drawn to it by some unseen force. Varian ducked back around the corner, followed closely by everyone else.

“What is that thing?” Wrathion hissed in his ear.

“Bad news,” Varian answered. His patience for questions that had obvious answers was very thin. “Does anyone have any ideas about how to get past it?”

“We could try to find a way around it,” Khadgar suggested. “There must be one. The orcs clearly avoid this spot, which suggests the existence of alternate routes.”

Jaina was the one to point out the obvious flaw with that idea. “This is the most obvious path through the burial grounds,” she said. “I don’t want to stray off it and get lost. I’d rather fight that thing head on than wander through a maze of tunnels until I’m exhausted and can’t defend myself any longer.”

“No,” Khadgar agreed. “I would also prefer to avoid that particular fate.”

“Then it seems we have only one option,” Yrel said. “Confront the beast, and see if we can send it back to the place it was summoned from.”

A somber silence fell over the group. Void beasts roamed the tunnels and this was not the first one they had seen, but all the others had been under the control of a team of warlocks. This one was larger than all of the others and obviously much stronger. None of the Shadowmoon were even attempting to control it. If Varian were alone, even he would not dare to confront such a creature. He cleared his throat. “Do we all feel capable of having this battle today?” he asked. “It needs to be unanimous. If even one of us feels that they can’t go on, then we are stopping for the night right here. I won’t have us go up against that thing unless we are all confident that we have the strength for it.”

Privately, he had hoped that someone would say no. Perhaps the others were hoping the same. It had been a long day and his sword was wearing heavily on his back, but to say that he did not have one last struggle in him would have been a lie. Apparently the same was true for the rest of his team, as one by one they all spoke up to agree that they were willing to go forth and fight.

“All right,” said Varian, creeping back up to peer around the corner at the beast. “Everyone get ready. We’ll attack at my signal.” He put one foot forward and braced himself to run inside.

 


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *writes half a chapter while lying dead on the ground during the Star Augur fight on raid night*
> 
> I think chapter 40 is another milestone worth taking note of! Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me this whole time, and to everyone who's just joining in the fun. =)

The plan started out as smoothly as it could. Wrathion crept out from the corner the group was hiding behind and stayed pressed against the wall to take stock of their opponent. They had only gotten a short glimpse of the creature, and it was his job to make sure they hadn’t missed any details before attacking. A number of spirits lingered around the edges of the chamber, and although they gave him curious looks or shook their heads at him with wide, frightened eyes, they did not attack. Every now and then the creature would extend a piece of itself, a shape that would count as an arm to a beast of flesh and blood, and beckon to one of the spirits. Each one tried to resist but was drawn slowly in, and upon reaching the void creature they disappeared, absorbed into its body.

It was feeding on them, Wrathion realized, and the realization made him shudder. Just like a giant spider, sitting in the middle of its web of magic and waiting for its prey to come to it. But while spiders were natural creatures with a place in the world, this was a being that did not belong here. It had been called up from the void or had come through on its own when it sensed the magics in use in this place, and now was stuck here, unable to return. Not that it would want to leave even if it could, Wrathion reflected. The burial grounds were a perfect home for a being of darkness that drew energy on the souls of the dead. No doubt its power was amplified in this place, where it had a constant stream of food at its beck and call.

Their first priority in this battle, then, should be cutting it off from that supply. There had to be a way to disrupt the magical net it had cast and allow the spirits gathered here to disperse. Without the ability to replenish its power, it would be vulnerable and they could beat it down more quickly. He retreated back around the corner to relay this idea to the rest of the group.

“See if you can find out where those spirits are coming from,” Varian instructed him. “If we can locate the conduit that thing is using, could our magic users set up some kind of barrier to keep new spirits from entering this chamber?” He cast a significant look at the two mages.

Jaina nodded, her jaw set grimly. Khadgar looked more dubious. “What kind of barrier?” he asked. “Tampering in the magic energy of this area could be very dangerous. We could block it briefly, but anything we put up would be fragile, with a chance of breaking too soon. Permanently stopping anything up could create a buildup of dark magic in this section of the catacombs, and there’s no knowing what sort of effects that could cause.”

“It doesn’t have to be permanent,” Varian assured him. “Give us what you’re comfortable with and we can work with it. Wrathion, get back out there and see what you can find.”

Wrathion took a deep breath and headed back out into the chamber. There were spirits lingering all over, but he had noticed that a distinct majority were gathered on the opposite side. He started that way, pressed up close to the wall and trying to calm himself. His heart was starting to beat faster and he could feel his breath beginning to come in the dizzying gasps that usually preceded a fit of panic. That was the last thing he needed just before a battle, he needed to keep his wits about him, but he couldn’t stop it. He had the horrible sensation that the void creature knew he was there. Without looking at him, without so much as twitching in his direction, it still gave him the feeling that his every action was being scrutinized and found unworthy of attention. It made his skin crawl, breaking out into a cold sweat, and he would later blame that distraction for what happened next.

Although he thought he was being careful to watch where he was going, somehow he failed to notice the slab of flat stone carved with runes that was embedded into the ground of the chamber before him. The moment his foot landed on it, the runes lit up in a flash of purple and the ground around the stone began to shimmer with light. Wrathion watched, horrified, as a spirit began to form from the light. This was not one of the docile, frightened spirits that were being drawn in by the void beast. The orc’s brow was furrowed and his lips drawn back in a ferocious snarl. The creature on the other side of the room finally turned to look, pulsing with a terrifying aura of amusement, as the spirit lunged for Wrathion.

“Change of plans!” Wrathion shouted, nearly tripping over himself in his hurry to get away from not the spirit, but the void creature behind it. Ghosts were fragile, and a single one could be easily dealt with. That void beast was another matter. Now that its attention had been drawn, it was spreading itself out and bellowing a challenge that Wrathion did not even listen to. He knew nothing about this creature, he could not be expected to fight it alone.

Jaina hurled a fireball at the spirit chasing him, and Wrathion had to duck to avoid it. “What did you _do?_ ” she yelled at him as the spirit dissipated into nothingness and the void beast began hurling orbs of dark energy at their hiding place.

“Nothing!” Wrathion snapped, pushing past her to jump behind cover and grab his weapons. _Stupid_ , he thought, as he scrambled to pick the daggers up with shaking hands. He had left them behind to have fewer obstructions to his movement while sneaking around, but he never should have done that. One of the first things he’d had drilled into his head at Ravenholdt Manor was to never go anywhere without a weapon. When he was older his teeth, talons, and fire breath would be all the weapons he needed. For now, he still needed his daggers. Finally managing to get a good grip on them, he hurled himself back out into the chamber just behind Varian.

He truly hadn’t believed that the beast would react to anything he did so long as he didn’t go near it, but now that it had the group needed to make up the advantage that the surprise attack had taken from them. They fanned out quickly, and Varian jumped in front of the beast to hit it as hard as he could with the flat of his blade, drawing its attention away from the un-armored mages. It released a beam of shadow at Varian and Wrathion found himself in the crossfire. The magic didn’t hurt like a blow might. It felt like small slices all down the side that it struck, and he couldn’t pinpoint if it was burning or freezing. He jumped aside with a hiss, shook off the effects, and renewed his assault on the beast’s side. Varian took the brunt of it and staggered back, but righted himself quickly.

If the creature had enough energy in it for many more of those, as Wrathion suspected it might, then it really was imperative that they take it down quickly. Varian was strong, but there was a limit to how many blasts he could take and stay on his feet. Yrel was looking strained already as she tried to heal the effects. Wrathion didn’t know if void beasts had traditional weak spots, but he did his best to target areas that were not blocked by the tendrils. When his arms grew tired of slashing he switched to blowing jets of fire, and when he needed to catch his breath he went back to stabbing. Khadgar and Jaina assaulted the beast from back by the entrance to the chamber, and Wrathion had to keep dodging their attacks as well as the void tendrils that threatened to smack the daggers out of his hands. There was no time to feel offended by the lack of care they both seemed to have for his position.

It was during one of those moments, when he was ducking a fireball from Jaina and an arcane blast from Khadgar, that he heard Varian calling for him to move. He tried, knowing that Varian would not spare the breath for him unless something big was heading his way, ducking toward the place Jaina had attacked. Fire would hurt less than arcane, and certainly much less than whatever the void beast was sending at him. But he wasn’t fast enough, the instinct to flinch away from the striking fireball slowed him. He staggered and fell when a pulse of dark energy struck between his shoulder blades.

* * *

 

Anduin would never say as much to Right, but he was starting to feel like their search was hopeless. There were so many side tunnels and crawl spaces in the burial grounds that it was impossible to know that they’d checked every one. Calling out for Left or using the gems to ask her where she was were off the table, both presenting too much risk of bringing their rescue mission to the attention of Ner’zhul and his warlocks.

Each different passage they tried contained something new and horrible. In some they had to fight, running headfirst into groups of warlocks or necromancers. Others were full of bones, or abandoned ritual alters. Almost every tunnel was crawling with spiders. Anduin had never been bothered by spiders, but when they grew larger than his hands he preferred to keep them at a distance. They always scattered when he attacked them, fleeing from the burning light, but crept back up again as soon as he stopped. Eventually he decided not to bother. Right could take care of them easily enough on her own, and he would need his energy for healing if they managed to find Left in one piece.

They were so focused on this goal that when they finally found her it took a moment for either of them to realize it. Both of them were looking for _Left_ , the tall, powerful, fearless orc who followed Wrathion into the most dangerous places with a crossbow and a snarl. Neither of them was looking for an orc curled up unconscious on the floor of a cage, bruised and so still that they took her at first for a corpse. Anduin heard Right’s gasp and saw her drop to her knees next to the cage, but it wasn’t until he saw her reaching through the bars that he realized what he’d assumed was a pile of leftover items from some ritual or other was a body lying prone.

Anduin hurried over and crouched next to Right, waiting anxiously while she felt around Left’s wrist for a pulse. “I think she’s breathing,” Right said. “I just can’t find.. help me get her out of this thing.” Abandoning her efforts, she put Left’s arm gently back on the ground and dug around in her pouch, retrieving the lockpicking tools she kept inside. “Brace the door for me,” she told him. “I don’t want it moving while I get this.”

The cage was rusty. Anduin made sure not to lean on anything sharp while he pushed the door in to keep it still, looking anxiously at the wounds visible on Left’s arms and sides. He hoped none of the rust had gotten into them. That could cause horrible infections, and wouldn’t make the healing any easier. She had obviously lost a lot of blood, much of which was dried on the floor of the cage. Her face was pale and he could barely see her stomach moving with her breaths. She needed to get back to Lunarfall, where there were proper medical supplies and a team of healers, but at the moment he was sure she wouldn’t be able to handle the transport. While Right worked on the lock with hands that were commendably steady, Anduin prayed that he would be able to stabilize her enough for the trip back.

With a loud clang, the lock finally gave way. Right turned and looked over her shoulder at the noise. Anduin followed her gaze, knowing what she was thinking. They hadn’t seen any orcs in a while, but that sound would carry for a long distance through the tunnel. There was always a chance that someone might have heard it. “Do what you have to,” Right said, getting up and backing away from the cage. “I’ll guard you.”

Anduin nodded and moved toward the door, taking in a deep breath and wondering where he should start. Her wounds needed to be cleaned and closed, she needed to be brought back to consciousness, and she would need food and water. And all of this must be done as rapidly as possible, in a dirty cave crawling with spiders and littered with the remains of the dead. It was as far from an ideal environment as it was possible to get. There were clean cloths and bandages in his bag, and he had a flask of alcohol to disinfect. That was a start.

He had to crawl partially into the cage with Left to be able to reach all of her biggest wounds. It was an awkward position to work from, his head bent over uncomfortably by the low entrance to the cage, but he would have to make do with it until he felt safe moving her. One hand lifted her head and kept it off the hard ground, while he used an alcohol-soaked cloth to swab at the wounds with the other. His main focus was on the cleaning, but he cast a light healing spell with the hand holding Left’s head. It would bolster her energy and make it easier to rouse her when it was time to leave. When her wounds were mostly clean and the cloth was covered in dirt and blood, he set it aside and awkwardly unscrewed the cap of his water bottle one-handed to rinse the wounds.

Bandaging was a two-hand job, so he was forced to place Left’s head back down on the stone floor. To make it a little less uncomfortable, he swept any pebbles or scraps of unknown material out of the way before setting her down as gently as possible. If they got her back to Lunarfall, he thought, she would have a bed to rest on. No, he corrected himself a moment later. Not _if_. When. He had to think positively, it would help with the healing.

Right kept looking back at him, biting her lip and making small movements away from the tunnel entrance. She obviously wanted to be nearer to Left, but was reluctant to leave her post at the doorway even though it was clear that nobody was coming to attack them. Anduin understood, in her position he would want to keep himself busy too. “Come help me pin down these bandages,” he called. “And I’ll need your help to move her out of here afterward.”

Within seconds, Right was back at his side. She held the ends of the bandages in place, pulling them tight while Anduin secured them and then cutting off the excess afterward. That was the easy part. Lifting Left and maneuvering her out of the cage without jostling her or scraping her on the hinges was another matter altogether. Anduin almost thought they might have to break the bars by force to get her out. Luckily she was lighter than she looked and Right was able to exercise extreme caution in moving her, despite her impatience to get Left out of the humiliating prison. They managed to get her out and lie her down on the floor. Although she was still unconscious, Anduin thought that she might somehow sense that she had room to stretch out and appreciate the gesture.

“What now?” Right asked. “I’m strong, but not strong enough to carry her up all those stairs by myself, and I don’t think you’ll be any help.” She shot Anduin a sidelong glance. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Anduin answered, resisting the urge to grind his teeth. It was true, he would have enough trouble climbing back out even without the added challenge of helping to transport Left. “I might not even be going that way, Qiana mentioned that she wanted me to go back up Yrel on healing.” He wasn’t sure that it was a good idea to leave Right alone with a badly injured person, but he definitely didn’t feel comfortable going back to Lunarfall while the others were heading into danger. “I’m going to try to heal her to a point where she can stand. It won’t be fun for her, but if she can get up you can get out. While I’m working, can you try to contact Wrathion? I want to know how they’re doing before I decide where to go next.”

Right nodded and moved to one side of the chamber to give him space. Anduin put both his hands on Left’s stomach, covering the worst of the injuries, and began his healing. The bandages would keep the wounds clean and help stop the bleeding, but they couldn’t do everything on their own. He would have to focus some of his energy on closing them, but he wanted to spend most of it on boosting her strength so she could stand a chance of making it outside.

He could hear Right talking quietly to Wrathion while he worked, and wished profoundly that he could hear both sides of the conversation. Hearing Wrathion’s voice would be a great comfort in this place, even just so he could know that nothing bad had happened to him. But that would be a distraction, he couldn’t afford to take any attention away from healing Left. He allowed himself to devote a short prayer to the well-being of the others, and then closed his eyes and tried to block out the noise.

* * *

 

Wrathion opened his eyes with a start. What had happened? Had he blacked out? He could still see the void beast, and vaguely see the others fighting it, but everything was dulled like he was looking at it through a smudged glass. He got to his feet as quickly as he could and circled the creature, wondering what he should do. An experimental stab at it had no effect, his hand passed harmlessly through the beast’s body and left his entire forearm feeling chilled to the bone. The creature pulsed once, and a glob of spirit essence broke away from the mass. Wrathion watched curiously as it began to reform, wondering if it was one of the ghosts that had been consumed, coming to lend him aid. It was too optimistic a thought, and he stepped back in alarm when he realized he recognized the figure. It was himself, staring back at him with a menacing snarl, usually red eyes burning a dull purple.

What did that mean? He backed up slowly, one hand on his dagger, wondering what would happen if he had to hit himself. Would he feel the pain? And what if he killed this image? Logic dictated that this was just an illusion, something the beast had summoned to distract him, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility that it would somehow be linked to him.

The choice was taken away from him as his shadow self advanced on him. It wasn’t running, wasn’t leaping toward him in fury. Just advancing, in a slow, confident path. He found himself backing away, hating himself for the fear that was running through him. What kind of person feared their own reflection? Deciding he’d had enough of the tension, he let out his strongest roar and charged, swiping with his dagger and landing a direct hit on his shadow self’s shoulder below the neck.

It hadn’t even tried to dodge, he realized, eyes widening in surprise. He backed up farther, and it continued its slow walk towards him. When he looked closer, he saw that although it appeared to be threatening him, its eyes were glazed over like it was looking at something miles away. As it reached him it raised a hand and began to attack, but there was no strength behind it, no strategy or thought. He blocked the blows easily, and his shadow self made no effort to defend itself from return attacks. The fear dissipated. This apparition was nothing. Wrathion felt like laughing. A single well-aimed fireball dispatched the echo of himself, leaving behind a ball of glowing mist.

Unlike the spirit itself, the mist’s glow seemed inviting. It was warm and friendly, and he felt compelled to reach out and touch it. As soon as his fingers curled around it, the room seemed to heave sideways and he was snapped back into the brawl. Varian’s sword clanging against the beast’s shackles shattered his confusion, and he threw himself once more into the attack.

“There you are!” Khadgar called. “When you disappeared, we worried you’d been pulled into this creature’s home realm!” He sounded relieved, but still aimed a bolt right at the place Wrathion’s head was currently occupying. Wrathion ducked it with an exasperated grunt.

Was that what had happened? It certainly had felt like he’d been plucked away from reality and dropped into some other place, similar but closed off from the realm of the living. Wrathion considered it, but then shook his head and refocused on his stabbing technique. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. Better to put the beast down before what had happened to him happened to anybody else.

He heard a whisper in his ears, the telltale sign that someone was using one of his gems to contact him. He growled. All of his agents had been warned not to contact him unless it was a dire emergency, lest Ner’zhul or some other Shadowmoon orc intercept their communication. Since he trusted them to follow those simple directions, that meant something was wrong, and his immediate attention was needed. Unfortunately he had none to spare. Time to finish this.

The others seemed to share his line of thinking, because they all stepped up their efforts, drawing from a pool of energy that he hadn’t realized any of them had. There was desperation in every blow and crackle of magic, and Jaina cast some spell that sent a surge of energy through each one of them. Wrathion took full advantage of it, dropping his daggers on the floor with a clatter and leaping back to line himself up so that he wouldn’t hit anybody with his fire. He took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds to let the pressure build, and then released it with a roar and as much flame as he could manage to generate. When he was finished it felt like he was thrown every last scrap of his energy into that attack, and he couldn’t stop his knees from buckling. At the same moment, Varian stabbed the beast deeply with his sword and the shackles binding it to their world cracked. The creature shimmered and disappeared with a cry that was half roar and half sigh, and its shackles hit the ground.

Wrathion collapsed where he was, gasping for air. From what he could see without turning his head, the others were in much the same state of exhaustion. Yrel was trying to patch Varian’s wounds, but Wrathion could tell that she could barely keep on her feet. The healing spells she conjured were weak, and it was lucky that none of them had sustained serious physical injury because he was sure that they would not be sufficient to tend to a mortal wound.

When he had enough breath to speak, he touched the glowing gem with one hand. It was Right’s, and that alone drew all the irritation from him. “What have you found?” he asked. Normally he would go off by himself to have such a conversation, but he was too tired to care about the others overhearing.

Her voice came back to him so clearly that she could have been standing right next to him. That meant she was close, and that in itself was a comfort. “The prince is trying to bring her around now,” she said, and Wrathion appreciated her effort to keep the subject vague. It certainly would not throw off any spies, but at least she was trying. “I’ll bring her to the surface once she’s up. How’s your situation?”

Relief flooded his body. Left was alive, and Anduin could help her. “If you can, send our friend down this way when he’s finished,” Wrathion answered, then cut the connection. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Varian react to that, sitting up straighter against the wall and narrowing his eyes in suspicion. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to answer any questions just yet. Varian would be furious once he saw Anduin, but with any luck Wrathion would have some of his energy back by then. He should move away from the center of the room, he knew it wasn’t the safest place to rest. And he would move. He just needed another minute. Unbidden, his eyes slipped closed and his human form melted away until he lay on the stone as a whelp, wings bent back and without any strength to refold them.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My stomach has been trying to kill me for 2 days, so this is all ya'll are getting this week. Please send mint tea and maybe an exorcist.

The first thing that returned to Left was the stinging pain arcing through her body from the lashes she’d earned for misbehaving. Under that was the deep ache from the cuts in her arms and sides where they had taken blood, for rituals and to keep her weak. It was fading, though. She wondered if she was being roused for some new torment, and resolved to remain unresponsive for as long as she could. It wouldn’t be difficult. She would be hard-pressed to lift a single finger. Everything felt weighted down, and there was a pounding ache in her head. An ache that was made worse by the fact that whoever was prodding at her kept speaking, trying to get some kind of reaction from her. Well, they could keep at it. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

“Come on Left, you can do it.” The voice wasn’t the harsh mockery of her captors. She _knew_ that voice. It sounded just like Anduin Wrynn. Left twitched involuntarily in surprise, but forced herself still again. She must be hallucinating. Anduin Wrynn had no way of knowing where she was. Forcing her eyes as tightly closed as possible, Left attempted to slip back into soothing unconsciousness.

“Stop a moment.” Now she was hallucinating Right’s voice. At least that made sense. It wasn’t the first time she’d had such an experience during her captivity. The physical stress had been causing some very surreal visions. “She moved,” Right was saying. “I saw her face move. Left, can you hear me?”

A hand touched her face, rough from years of combat and undercover work. Left would know the feel of Right’s palm even through the most fevered of delusions, and she wasn’t yet so far gone that her mind would be conjuring physical sensations. That meant what she was hearing and feeling had to be real. She braced herself for the disappointment that would strike her if she was wrong, and opened her eyes. There they were. Right and Anduin Wrynn, both leaning over her with concerned faces. She tried to speak, but her throat was so dry that it came out as a cough.

“Take it easy,” Anduin said, reaching behind him to pick up his water bottle. “Here, drink this.” He held it up for her while Right braced her head so she wouldn’t choke. Being coddled that way went against her fighter’s sensibilities, but she was thirsty enough not to complain. The water, unpleasantly warm from being carried around in Anduin’s backpack, was nevertheless the best thing she could remember tasting for a long time, and she drank so fast that she thought she might choke on it.

When she was finished with the water there was food, soft fruit and bread that Anduin had pilfered from Lunarfall before leaving. It was a far cry from what little she’d been fed here, which was usually tough and burned to the point of being unrecognizable. Eating consumed much of her remaining strength, but when she was done Anduin began healing her again to restore it. She lay back and focused on letting the healing magic in, and on keeping down her meal. In her enthusiasm, she had forgotten that the food and water would be a shock to her system and she was feeling slightly nauseous.

It was still difficult for her to measure the passage of time. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, but this time it didn’t feel like she was slipping away from her body. It was restful, finally, in a way she hadn’t been able to rest for days. Maybe even longer, she wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d left Lunarfall. Eventually it occurred to her that she might have the energy to sit up, and she immediately attempted it without thinking. Anduin made a surprised noise when she moved but caught on quickly, stopping his healing and moving to support her while she got her balance. “That was quick,” he sound, sounding pleased. “How are you feeling?”

_Awful_ , Left thought. She didn’t answer him, letting her silence and the slight wobble in her posture speak for itself. Anduin grimaced sympathetically and moved to continue healing her, but she brushed him off. She had escaped from worse situations with more dire injuries. Anduin should save his energy. There was no doubt that he was here as part of an attack of some kind, those were the people who were more likely to need his services. “I’m an orc,” she told him dismissively. “I’ll handle it.”

“You’re doing great,” Right told her with just a hint of a smile. Left grunted. She resented being humored. Still, she smiled back. It was hard not to share Right’s relief, she had begun to think that this reunion might not happen. That the Black Prince would attempt a rescue had been a certainty, but her cage was far from the surface in a hidden side tunnel. Besides that, she knew how heavily guarded the burial grounds were. Right and Anduin had been very lucky to find her without being badly injured or captured themselves. That they had been able to get this far at all spoke to her of a larger invasion force going for the chieftain.

“Is the Prince with you?” She didn’t see him lurking around the room anywhere, and he wasn’t the type to stand guard while something significant was happening. If he was in these tunnels at all, Left had to assume he would be leading the attack. Or running his own, if the human king failed to cooperate with him.

Right shook her head, confirming Left’s conclusions. “No, he’s further in. Out for revenge, and sent us to make sure you got rescued. He’s been clearing out all the guards on our way with King Wrynn and a few of the others from Lunarfall.”

“What’s he doing here, then?” Left jerked her head at Anduin, momentarily irritated. “He should be there with them, not wasting his time on me.” It was irresponsible for the Black Prince to send a capable healer away from all the real fighting, especially considering how the two of them had been circling each other. If they were orcs, neither of them would let the other out of sight. Mated pairs stuck together, no matter how inconvenient it might be. If it was only her decision to make, she would never leave Right’s side. Then again, her prince was very young still, and so was Anduin Wrynn. Too young, perhaps, to constitute a proper pair. “Go and find the fighters,” she told Anduin, a little more gently. “Once I am rested, Right and I will find our way out.”

“I was thinking that maybe you should both come with me,” Anduin said, concern lacing his voice. “That way I can heal you if you get too tired, and one of the mages can make you a portal back to Lunarfall so you won’t have to climb out.”

Left managed a laugh at that. “The day I need a little scrap of a human worrying over me every step of my way is the day I’ll lie down and die.” She bared her tusks and grinned at him, not unkindly. “Your mages need their power for fighting, and it would be dangerous to open a portal from here. We could be followed. Go on, get yourself to the real action.” Making a shooing gesture with her hands was probably a step too far, but she had just been rescued from a slow and agonizing death. She thought she was allowed to enjoy a joke or two at someone else’s expense. She kept smiling at him, trying to act energetic.

Anduin wasn’t fooled in the slightest. His eyebrows went up in a skeptical expression and he looked pointedly at the large bandage wound around her sides. “That will need to get changed at least once before you get to the surface, it’s filthy down here. Do either of you have any first aid training?”

“Of course,” Left scoffed. “What kind of operation do you think the Prince is running?” All this talking was making her dizzy so she lay back down, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious about it. “We’ll be fine.”

With the long-suffering sigh of someone who knew when an argument would be pointless, Anduin sat next to her and began pulling things out of his bag. “I’m leaving all this with you,” he said. “Make sure that you use it. There are extra bandages and alcohol, some food and water, and a potion that should boost your energy if you need it, although I’d rather you rest instead of pushing yourself.” He watched to make sure that Right took every one of the items before getting up. “When you make it back, you should return anything you didn’t use,” he added with some uncomfortable shuffling. “I didn’t exactly tell anyone I was taking it.”

Right hummed in acknowledgement without looking at him, a response that could mean she was planning to do as he asked but could also mean that she was going to keep the pilfered supplies for herself. Nobody in their right mind would turn down the chance to restock on bandages without paying for them. She raised one hand to wave Anduin off as he slowly walked away down the tunnel, looking nervous. Then after he had gone, she leaned back on her hands and raised an eyebrow at Left. “Do I count as a little scrap of a human too?”

Left laughed, ignoring the pain that pulsed in her ribs with each motion. “We’ll find out in a minute. Let’s see if you can get me standing.”

* * *

 

 Wrathion would have been content to sleep a full night right where he had dropped, but nobody else had been comfortable staying in the chamber where the void beast had been. Jaina suggested that the fabric of reality might be weak in that area, and Yrel rightly pointed out that they would not survive another battle like that, he had been forced to get to his feet and follow them along down the tunnel to look for a relatively safe spot to rest. The place they found was, in his opinion, the most miserable hiding spot he had ever seen. It was an opening in the cave wall just before a twist in the path, so small that it took some effort to fit them all inside. More than that, it was damp. There was a waterfall running down the other wall and into a crevice below the tunnel, and the spray infiltrated the smallest cracks. Varian, on the other hand, had seemed pleased with it. He’d insisted that the convenience of having fresh water so close by would outweigh the minor discomfort of bedding down on wet rock.

Humans were insane, he reflected as he pulled a long cloak out of his travel bag and wrapped it around himself in a vain effort to keep the mist from settling all over him and freezing him to death. Jaina had conjured a fire that burned persistently in the absence of any fuel or a dry place to light it, and the slight heat it generated seemed to be all the others needed to lift their spirits. Varian looked to be actually enjoying himself, cooking a dinner for them over the fire and telling tales of his gladiator days. At any other time he might have found the stories interesting. He’d known that Varian Wrynn had been a gladiator for a time, but the details of the event were carefully guarded. Unfortunately, he was too cold and too tired to pay attention. After the third time he came to with an uncomfortable start and realized he had been nodding off, he stood up with a grumble and announced that he was going to stretch his legs.

“Don’t go too far,” Khadgar cautioned him. “We don’t know who else might be out there.”

“I know,” Wrathion snapped, stomping a little more than usual on his way back up the tunnel. He just wanted to get back to somewhere dry, maybe shake some of the numbness out of his toes. It wasn’t like he was going to be flying through the burial grounds setting fire to things, as appealing an idea as that was. With such a small group, their attack needed to be more subtle than that.

He had almost gotten up to the last torch that was lit past the void beast’s chamber when something very welcome happened. Stopping in his tracks, he focused in on the communication spell and spoke. “Repeat that.” Then he held very still, barely even daring to breathe, every part of his body focused intently on listening. The gem that was sending a signal was Right’s, but he’d been sure that it was Left’s voice that he’d heard.

“We’re on our way to the surface.” It was! It was Left! She sounded weak, and her voice was raspy, but it was her! “My gem’s still being tracked so I borrowed Right’s, you’ll have to redo the enchantment on mine when you get done in there. Sorry about that.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Wrathion answered quickly, too relived to bother trying to sound disapproving that she’d allowed one of his creations to be tampered with. “I’ll replace the whole thing, just to be sure. Please do not worry about it, I’m glad that Right and Anduin were able to find you. Did they get through safely?”

“Seemed fine when I woke up,” Left reported. “Right is with me. We sent your boy on down the tunnel to find you.” Wrathion detected a faint hint of disapproval in her voice, and thought he knew what it was about. In her view, Anduin should not have needed sending along. He would already know exactly where to find Wrathion, because they would be together. He rubbed at his temple with one hand but didn’t pursue an argument. Left knew better than to press the matter.

“I’ll keep an eye out for him,” Wrathion said instead. “Thank you Left. Get back safely.” He ended the connection then, because Left and Right needed their wits about them to make their escape and having him talking in their ears would not help.

For all her judgment about his going to fight without Anduin, Left certainly hadn’t sounded like she’d had any qualms about sending him down the passageway on his own. Wrathion thought back, trying to remember if there were any places where the correct way forward was less defined, or anywhere they hadn’t checked for lurking enemies. Maybe he should walk up to meet Anduin, then if there was trouble he would have backup. But he didn’t know how far he would have to go, or if his presence in itself might attract attention from warlocks who would otherwise not notice Anduin. He considered it carefully and decided that it couldn’t hurt to go just a _little_ farther up the tunnel. Anduin would be alone with the darkness and the spirits of the dead, not an experience that Wrathion wanted him to have for very long. He had, after all, come here at great risk to himself just to help Left.

Not that Anduin would see it that way. If Wrathion mentioned that, he would just shrug and smile his usual bright smile and say that the risk didn’t matter, that of _course_ he would walk into an enemy stronghold to rescue Left. To do anything else would be unimaginable to him. Wrathion could almost see him coming down the tunnel, waving hello, making everything around him look less threatening just by his mere presence. Perhaps Left was on to something. Now that he’d thought about it, Wrathion felt that he would do almost anything to secure Anduin’s presence at his side _right away_. He might be perfectly comfortable spending the night in a puddle of river water if only Anduin was there with him.

A conversation that he’d had with Right shortly before the whole mess started came filtering back to him, that knowing you loved someone was the easy part. And it really was that easy, wasn’t it? Despite knowing that he was alone, Wrathion had the urge to look around anxiously, paranoid that what he was thinking and feeling would show somehow. It was a dizzying realization, and it was hard to believe that nobody else was aware of it. He leaned against a wall to steady himself, wondering if he could blame his shaking legs for the beating he’d taken during the battle. Maybe he should sit down.

He was resting there, staring blankly off into the darkness of the passage, when Anduin arrived. Wrathion heard him before he saw him, and even before Anduin stepped into the torchlight he knew who it had to be. Nobody else had those distinctive footfalls, nobody else could make his heart jump just from hearing them nearby. “Anduin,” he called, scrambling to his feet. “Over here.”

“Wrathion!” Anduin emerged into view, looking a little worse for the wear but thankfully unhurt. “You didn’t have to-”

Wrathion would have to wait to find out what he didn’t have to do. Before Anduin could finish his sentence, he had the wind knocked out of him by an armful of dragon. Wrathion had leaped for him, shifting into his dragon form and flapping his wings to clear the distance faster. He would apologize for interrupting as soon as he was finished nuzzling his face into the side of Anduin’s neck. Maybe.

“I missed you,” he said, in between the trilling growls of a content whelp. “My dear Anduin, sweet, brave, wonderful Anduin.”

After he recovered from the impact, Anduin laughed. “Hello,” he said, adjusting his drop on Wrathion to avoid dropping him. “This is quite a welcome. Were you waiting for me?” He sounded flustered, and it was music to Wrathion’s ears.

“Of course I was,” he answered, regaining the presence of mind to change back into human form. That was better, now he had arms he could wrap around Anduin and a mouth to kiss him with. “Your father chose a terrible place to stop for the night. I couldn’t stand the thought of staying there unless I had you with me, so naturally I had to come and find you.”

“You sound like something out of a cheap romance novel.” Anduin sounded pleased, despite his attempt at teasing. “I hope that means you’ll help me stop my father from physically carrying me back to the surface, and then maybe re-breaking one of my legs to make sure I stay up there.”

“Absolutely,” Wrathion promised. He kissed Anduin again for good measure, then took his hand. “Come with me, my dear prince Anduin, and I will take care of everything.”

There would be plenty of time to figure out how he was going to do that on the walk back.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The secret real reason these last few chapters have been pretty short is that I hate writing uncomfortable conversations and put it off as long as possible, lmao. Also probs why this is the crappiest thing I've written in a while.
> 
> Happy Saturday, kids.

The further down the tunnel they walked, the more distinctly Anduin could hear the sound of running water. He looked to Wrathion in confusion, and not without a little concern. If there was a flood down here it would be much more dangerous than one aboveground, and yet Wrathion hadn’t reacted to the sound at all. He kept walking down the tunnel, facing forward, perfectly calm. When he noticed Anduin looking at him, his only response was a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry,” he said. “That means we’re getting close. When I said your dear father picked out a terrible spot to camp, this was what I meant.”

He let go of Anduin’s hand a second later. The mention of Varian had added an undercurrent of tension to the mood and reminded them both of the argument waiting for them once they reached the camp. Anduin’s heart sank. Wrathion had been so happy to see him, so sweet in his greeting. It was unfair that they now had to proceed this way, standing an acceptable distance apart and always worrying about Varian’s watchful eyes. And for what? All they were doing was delaying the inevitable. There was a limit to how long he could hide his feelings for Wrathion, it felt like they were going to burst out of him at any moment. Was that really the way he wanted to spend their limited time together? Of course it wasn’t. It was horrible.

Didn’t the saying go that it was better to hold your breath and jump in at the deep end, instead of wading in inch by inch? Anduin quickened his pace for the next step and a half so he could catch back up to Wrathion and determinedly grab his hand back. “I’d like to stay like this,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed forward down the tunnel. “If that’s okay.”

Wrathion’s steady stride faltered for half a step, but he recovered quickly. “Certainly,” he said. “That is, if you’re sure. We’ll be in for an uncomfortable time.”

Anduin sighed deeply. Just thinking about it was exhausting. “I know,” he said. “I guess I’d just rather get all the unpleasant things out of the way now. Father will be angry to see me here no matter what, so how much worse can it get?” He cringed at the forced levity in his voice. It wasn’t funny at all, he knew he was going to find out exactly how bad it could get. He only hoped it wouldn’t be bad enough to scare Wrathion away. Part of him knew that was an irrational fear, Wrathion had stuck with him through much more dangerous things than an angry Varian Wrynn, but he knew firsthand just how terrifying it could be to have the eyes of Goldrinn’s chosen champion pinning you under their ferocious gaze.

He knew that Wrathion could tell what he was thinking, because the fingers wrapped around his hand held him tighter. “I will be glad to have it over with myself,” said Wrathion in a tone that made it sound like he was discussing something mildly unpleasant, such as moving furniture or cleaning out a drain. “There are many things that require our attention, clearing the air should help.” He made it sound much simpler than it would be. Anduin wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved for his support or apprehensive about what was to come. His emotions settled somewhere in between, making goosebumps pop up on his arms and sweat break out between their palms.

They rounded a corner to the familiar sight of a conjured fire burning low to the side of the path. “I’m back,” Wrathion announced quietly, as it looked that most of the group had already bedded down for the night. Anduin shrank from the light but made himself step forward with Wrathion. There was no more time to reconsider, no way to hide his presence now.

“Anduin?” The shadowed figure sitting up by the fire to keep watch stood, revealing herself to be Jaina. “How did you find us?” She didn’t ask what he was doing, sounding more resigned than scared. Anduin cleared his throat uncomfortably, realizing that his decision to follow after them was being regarded as an inevitable problem rather than an unexpected event. Was he really that predictable?”

“It wasn’t too bad,” he answered, careful to keep his voice low to avoid waking anyone else. “I found Qiana outside and she showed me the way in. Said that Yrel was tired and she would feel better knowing you had more than one healer looking out for you.” Jaina hadn’t sent him away yet, so he took a chance on stepping forward again. As he moved further into the firelight with Wrathion, Jaina noticed their joined hands and raised her eyebrows with a pointed frown. Anduin waited for a verbal reproach, but it didn’t come.

“I’ll have to speak with Qiana when we get back,” she said instead. “Nobody should ever send a child alone into a place like this. Did you come down all this way by yourself?” She moved so that there was space for him by the fire next to her, but not enough to allow Wrathion back into the makeshift shelter.

“No, I didn’t.” Anduin leaned up against the tunnel wall. His leg was starting to really twinge and he desperately wanted to sit down by the fire, but he wouldn’t be complicit in Jaina’s passive-aggression toward Wrathion. “Right was with me. You know, Wrathion’s human bodyguard. We were looking for Left.”

“I see.” Jaina nodded, then paused to rekindle the fire with a wave of her hand. “And I imagine _you_ were the one to set up this endeavor?” She directed her question at Wrathion with a venomous glare. “It wasn’t enough for you that we’re all down in these tunnels trying to cut off the head of the serpent, so you had to make Anduin risk his life for your whims?”

Her voice had been raised slightly in anger, echoing faintly off the far wall. Anduin flinched at the volume, casting a nervous glance over the sleeping form of his father. He hadn’t moved. “Wrathion hasn’t made me do anything,” he said in as measured a tone as he could manage. Next to him he could feel Wrathion tensed up in anger over having been accused. This wasn’t going well. He needed to make his point before a real fight could erupt. “I would have come after you even if he wasn’t here, I wanted to help. If anything, Wrathion made things safer for me. He knew I would follow and had Right wait for me so I wouldn’t be alone.”

“Let him speak for himself, Anduin.” Varian sat up, and it might have been a trick of the light but Anduin could almost swear that they were glowing. His throat went dry and he swallowed hard. Varian must have been lying awake listening to the entire conversation. “I’m interested to hear what he’ll have to say for himself,” Varian continued in a deceptively calm voice. “It seems that your interpretation of what he was up to may be compromised.”

Anduin’s hand itched with the sudden instinct to pull away from Wrathion. To counteract it he tugged at Wrathion’s arm and pulled him closer. Wrathion followed the silent direction without complaint, but Anduin could feel his arm shaking. Whether it was from nerves or rage, he couldn’t tell. Maintaining the illusion of serenity up until his breaking point was a talent of Wrathion’s, the only variable was when he would hit that point and why.

“It’s as Prince Anduin says,” he replied. “I have no say in what he does, and could not have made him stay back. I only intended to make the trip less dangerous for him, to the extent that I could manage.”

“How altruistic of you,” Varian said sarcastically. “Jaina, keep an eye on him, would you? Make sure he doesn’t sneak away again. It’s time for me to have a long-overdue talk with my son.”

* * *

 

To Varian, the worst part of the scene was the inevitability of it. Somehow it felt like he had known from the moment Anduin left home for the first time that he would someday need to have this conversation. That didn't mean he was prepared for it. He stood up and gestured down the tunnel, waiting for Anduin to move. They couldn't go far, but it would provide a flimsy pretense of privacy. Some discussions were best not conducted in the presence of others. Anduin exchanged a wide-eyed look with Wrathion, one which seemed to communicate volumes. Finally, reluctantly, he pulled away from Wrathion to walk slowly down the tunnel.

Varian followed him a few steps behind, studying his son and wondering where he should start. Anduin’s shoulders were tense and drawn up, and he kept his face forward even though Varian could tell that he wanted badly to turn around and see the expression on his face. He was getting ready for a fight, and it couldn’t be more clear that he was out of his element in doing so. Starting another fight with Anduin was the last thing Varian wanted to do. It was what had caused this whole mess in the first place, pushed Anduin away to this world where he’d had no choice but to involve himself in the reckless schemes of a juvenile black dragon.

Yes, Varian was angry. The target of his anger, however, was not his son. It wasn’t Anduin’s fault that he had been taken in. The pursuer was the one at fault, not the victim. Varian knew what black dragons were like, how they operated. Worming their way into personal circles, using gifts and favors to make themselves appear trustworthy, and then manipulating that trust for their own gain. Remembering how Onyxia had taken advantage of him and his position still gave him the chills, and he was not about to let the same thing happen to Anduin.

“I should have put a stop to this long ago,” he said as soon as he felt they were a good distance away from the group. Leaning up against the tunnel wall, he ran a hand down his face. This was not going to be easy. “As soon as I heard from Jaina that you’d been making friends with a black dragon, I should have called you down from that mountain. I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

Anduin wouldn’t look at him. His face was flushed, a combination of nerves and embarrassment. “Wrathion helped me a lot while I was healing at the tavern,” he said. “And he’s done so much for me since we left Azeroth. I trust him.”

“Trust can easily be misplaced.” Varian sighed loudly. He had promised himself that he would not shout at Anduin, it never helped, but he couldn’t believe that someone who had grown up during some of Stormwind’s darkest times could be so blind. “Don’t you see Anduin, that this is exactly how Onyxia operated? Bolvar trusted her, I trusted her, because we were too smitten with her to see the beast that she was.”

“What do you think he's trying to do?” Anduin turned on him, face scrunched up in frustration. “Has he done anything since we got to Lunarfall other than help you? I understand being suspicious, but there's a difference between suspicion and paranoia!”

“He started a _war_ , Anduin.” Varian folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. Causing Anduin unhappiness was the most difficult thing in the world, but he had to stay firm. “I don't think there's such a thing as _too much suspicion_ in his case.” Anduin started to speak, but Varian cut him off. He wasn't finished yet. “I know, I know. He claims it was an accident. Do you have any way to be sure of that, Anduin? Black dragons specialize in deception. How can you believe anything he says to you?”

“How can I believe anything you say to me?” Anduin challenged. “Anyone could be lying to me, any time. I trust you because you don't have a history of it. Neither does Wrathion. He's never lied to me.”   
  
“As far as you know,” Varian said. This was getting nowhere. Obviously Anduin was too far gone to be objective.

“Also as far as you know,” Anduin answered. “Unless Wrathion has been running around telling horrible lies to everyone while I’m not looking. He sometimes hides things, he likes to feel like he has more cards in his hand than anyone else, but it’s obvious when he’s doing that. All you have to do is push him a little. I know you have advisers with worse habits.”

“Perhaps I do, but none of my advisers think of people as playthings. I know he spent most of his time in Pandaria paying adventurers to do questionable things for him, so don’t try to pretend he’s completely innocent.” Forcing himself to adopt a more relaxed posture, Varian reached out to put a firm hand on Anduin’s shoulder. “You’re the prince, Anduin. Someday you will be king, and that day will never be far enough away for you to be ready for it. Success in this role depends on the people around you. Someone like Wrathion, you’ll have to make allowances from him. Constantly defend him, stake your reputation on him. That’s a selfish risk to take, and a king cannot afford to be selfish. You need to let him down now, before he starts to believe he has a right to be with you.”

“I can’t.” Anduin seemed to shrink under the weight of his hand, hunching down in a way that was entirely unfitting for a prince. He wasn’t crying, but there was a definite wobble to his voice and he seemed unable to stand up straight. “Maybe you don’t think it means anything, or that it doesn’t count because we’re young, or because of who he is, but I’m happy with him. I’m comfortable with him. He makes me feel like I can do more than anything I’ve ever tried.” Now he _was_ crying. Holding himself together well, not shaking or sobbing, but every word was strained and Varian could see tears.

Varian moved back. Dueling instincts within him cried alternately for him to keep pressing until he knew Anduin would make the right choice and for him to break down and comfort his son. Apparently the relationship, and his lip curled involuntary when he thought that word, was more serious than he’d thought. Disgusting sentiments like that were a fair bit past shy smiles and joined hands. How much past, he decided he would rather not know. “When we get out of here,” he said, shaking his head to rid it of the thought, “when Ner’zhul is dead and we return to Lunarfall, I want you back in Stormwind that night. And he is not going with you. Whether or not you say goodbye before you leave is up to you.”

* * *

 

Dragon or not, it was difficult not to feel a little badly for Wrathion. Like the rest of the group, Khadgar had woken when Varian got up to leave with Anduin, and had pieced together the rest of the story from Wrathion’s expression and a few enraged comments from Jaina. Wisely in Khadgar’s opinion, Wrathion had opted not to open himself up to any more remarks, and was refusing to speak to any of them. He’d left their hidden alcove and was sitting alone on the other side of the path with his legs dangling off the edge toward the water. Taking into account his earlier complaints about the waterfall Khadgar was certain he must be freezing. He certainly looked it. Arms wrapped around himself, hunched shoulders, he was the picture of misery.

Khadgar had mentioned that, and suggested that one of them go to fetch him before he froze solid, but Jaina had snorted at the idea. “He’s only being dramatic so we’ll feel sorry for him,” she said.

The effort was unnecessary, if that was true. Khadgar did not envy Wrathion’s position. Varian’s reputation for being protective of his son was well-earned, and Wrathion had yet to make a good name for himself with the Alliance. By walking into camp hand in hand with Anduin, he’d thrown himself headfirst into some water that was much hotter than the spray from the waterfall. If he operated under the assumption that Wrathion would be receiving more than his fair share of punishment from Varian Wrynn, it made no sense to leave him out there by himself to stew in his unhappiness. “Come back over here,” Khadgar called kindly out to him. “There’s no point in killing yourself from the cold if you don’t have to.”

“I have no need for pity,” Wrathion answered, lifting his head slightly to look over his shoulder. “As a dragon, I can tolerate temperatures at either extreme. I will be fine here, away from all your prying.” Turning away again, he refolded his arms tightly and curled in slightly more upon himself.

“Tolerance is one thing, but you can’t be comfortable.” Khadgar moved to free up a space next to himself by the fire, gesturing invitingly at the relative warmth. “Come on now, don’t torment yourself. If you wish, none of us will even speak to you. But you will need all your strength for tomorrow, and you’ll do yourself no favors by sleeping out there.”

Wrathion sighed loudly, as if the act of accepting a space by the fire was the most horrible inconvenience he had ever faced, but he got to his feet. “If you insist.” He threw himself down on the stone ground next to Khadgar and began the long process of drying himself off, leaning forward into the fire so the drops of water on his skin and armor began to steam.

Noise from down the tunnel made them all jump up and reach for their weapons, but it was just Varian returning with Anduin. The young prince was dragging his feet on the stone, a sullen expression on his face. He didn’t look up or respond when Yrel called out to welcome them back. Khadgar couldn’t blame him either. They hadn’t been able to piece together the conversation that he and Varian had been having, but some of the words had filtered up the tunnel to them when their voices were raised. It hadn’t sounded good. When they reached the group, Varian sat next to Jaina and motioned for Anduin to join him. Glaring back defiantly at his father, Anduin squeezed himself into the alcove next to Wrathion and folded his arms.

Muttering something under his breath, Varian reached across the fire to pull his sword out from the pile of their assorted belongings. “I’ll take next watch.”

Yrel was next on their agreed-upon schedule, but nobody was going to argue with Varian when he was in a mood. “Thank you,” she said carefully. “Will your son be joining us as we proceed?” Khadgar detected a faint amount of hope in her voice. Keeping them all safe during combat had been taxing for her, especially since she had been previously injured. An extra set of eyes to keep watch on the group would be welcomed. Especially if they belonged to Anduin, who was rumored to be a very powerful healer indeed when placed in a situation that tested his abilities.

“I wish he wasn’t, but he’s made it clear I can’t stop him.” Varian returned the glare Anduin had sent him. “Anyone else have a question?”

There were, in fact, many things Khadgar could ask about. Things like what the next day’s plan was, and how they should approach defeating Ner’zhul if they managed to reach him. By now he would certainly know they were coming. Everything in the burial grounds was connected by the void magic permeating the very walls, and it was too much to hope that they could have gone unnoticed after fighting their way down to this place. However, he felt that perhaps these concerns were better saved for the morning, when everyone was rested and in slightly better spirits, so he opted to stay quiet.

“Get to sleep then,” Varian ordered after a few moments of silence. “You’ll need it.” He moved away from the rest of them to give the group more room to spread out, and sat facing down the tunnel with his sword on his lap. 


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sister, Leolilac on tumblr, graduated from her Master's program yesterday! Stop over and tell her congrats if you want to! 
> 
> This chapter got written in between Heroic Gul'dan wipes, but my guild is now 10 for 10 on Heroic! Fun times, yall.

Anduin didn’t know what woke him, he was just suddenly awake. Opening his eyes, he looked around for any disturbance that might have roused him. There was nothing, so he relaxed again. Obviously it wasn’t time to get up yet. Yrel was on watch, sitting up and looking down the tunnel. Every now and then she cast her gaze over the sleeping party to make sure everybody was still doing all right. When she noticed that Anduin was awake she smiled briefly at him before returning her attention to the watch. With both mages asleep the fire had died down to a tiny flame flickering on the stone ground, barely enough to illuminate farther than a few feet and not warm enough to fill the entire space. Luckily, Anduin thought, he didn’t have to manage the cold alone.

The fact that there was an arm around him rather than a wing told him that Wrathion must be awake too, no matter how still he was. Anduin shifted closer to him to take advantage of Wrathion's natural warmth and felt that arm tighten slightly.

“What time is it?” He asked in a whisper, mindful of his father sleeping a few feet away.

“No idea,” Wrathion whispered back. “There's no sun down here to track. Not long until we start moving again.”

“Did you sleep at all?” Wrathion had seemed exhausted when Anduin met up with him, but it was easy to imagine him sitting awake through the night regardless. The mistrust between him and Varian went both ways, it was hard for him to believe that the Alliance fighters could adequately protect him.

Wrathion nodded, his hair tickling the side of Anduin's face. “For a few hours,” he said. “Perfectly adequate for me, please don't worry.”

“You know I can't do that.” Anduin leaned his head back down to rest it on Wrathion's shoulder. Soon enough the others would begin to wake and then he would have to move, but until then he could make himself as comfortable as possible. “You need someone to worry about you so you’ll take care of yourself, because you’re too ridiculous to do it on your own.”

The exasperated huff that Wrathion let out ruffled Anduin’s hair and seemed to say that he was the one being ridiculous. It was immediately followed by a kiss to his temple, letting him know that Wrathion wasn’t truly annoyed with him. Moments later, Wrathion carefully pushed Anduin off his shoulder as Jaina stirred. The group was beginning to wake, it was time to get up and try to fit themselves back into reality.

Jaina’s first action upon getting up was to rekindle the fire, providing a welcome relief. Despite Anduin’s best efforts to stay warm his feet had started to go numb, and he spent several minutes holding them near the fire to regain some feeling. Then he pulled his bag closer and rummaged around for the packages of dried oats and sugar that he knew he’d taken from the Lunarfall Inn. There was a source of clear water easily available, and while they were boiling it refill their canteens he could make oatmeal. The least thing he could do was make sure everyone got a real breakfast before they started moving again.

An uncomfortable mood surrounded the group as they walked. Anduin felt at first that it must be his imagination acting up, but the longer it went on the more sure he was. Varian, of course, was in a foul mood. He strode quickly forward at the head of the group, sending angry glances back at where Anduin was walking with Wrathion every few minutes. That alone would be enough to make Anduin feel uneasy, but he could swear that the other members of the group were watching him as well. While subtle and far less aggressive than the looks he was getting from his father, it was still enough to make him nervous. Whenever he looked ahead and met eyes with Khadgar or Yrel he felt like ducking behind Wrathion to avoid their sight. Jaina had apparently decided that she just was not going to look at him at all, which was in a way almost worse.

Their pace slowed as they descended. Water was everywhere now, dripping down the walls and falling beneath the pathway in numerous small streams. Far below them, Anduin could hear it splashing down into what sounded like a vast underground lake. Moss was growing on the path, making the stone slippery and difficult to navigate. More than once Anduin found himself flailing and grabbing at the nearest arm as seemingly safe patches of ground revealed themselves to be covered in a thin layer of the stuff. Yrel, whose hooves were well-suited for climbing dry surfaces but provided little grip on the slimy rock, was in a similar predicament. The others fared better, but only slightly.

It was difficult to imagine anyone choosing to direct their clan from a place like this, but when they reached the bottom of the incline the reason for Ner’zhul’s retreat to the deepest reaches of the Shadowmoon’s burial grounds became clear. The lake that stretched out before them was wide, and there was no way to tell how deep. The tunnel opened up to accommodate it, leaving only a thin path to act as a bridge to the other side. It looked old and unstable, bits of it crumbling into the water, and it was the only way across. A better deterrent than a squadron of armed guards. No significant force could make their way across, the bridge would fail under the weight of more than a few soldiers.

“There’s something in the water,” Yrel called out. “Something big!” She pointed at a spot midway across the lake, where a telltale ripple indicated the presence of something large swimming under the bridge.

“Could it be a fish?” Khadgar asked. “I’ve heard tales of catfish back on Azeroth swimming into places like this and growing to enormous sizes.”

His optimism fell flat. The grim silence that fell over the group made Anduin feel certain that nobody believed it was something as harmless as a fish. Orcs were meat eaters, any large fish living in this lake would have been fished up and cooked to feed the clan a long time ago. This was something else, something that the orcs knew to leave alone. Ner’zhul’s chosen guard dog.

After a brief pause in which everyone stared in dismay at the water’s surface, Varian spoke up. “May as well take a break here,” he said. “Jaina, could I have a minute?” He waved her away from the group for a talk. Anduin could imagine what it was about. Jaina’s strength as a mage was versatility. She was a powerful user of both fire and ice magic, both of which seemed like they might be especially effective against a water-dwelling creature.

To his surprise, Yrel beckoned him over a few minutes into the break. Anduin was hesitant, remembering the looks she’d been giving him and Wrathion earlier, but went over to her with a friendly smile. “What’s going on?”

Yrel nodded in the direction of Varian and Jaina. “I think the king is asking Archmage Proudmoore if she is willing to make more of a target of herself,” she said, speaking quietly so as not to be overheard by Varian. “Can I count on your help to keep her safe? As a healer, I can protect a man in armor, like your father, without too much trouble. Mage’s robes, however, provide very little existing protection.”

“Of course,” Anduin told her. He had already been assessing the bridge for the best places to stand so that he could be sure of his footing and keep a distance from enemies in the water while maintaining easy access to the others. “I can shield her and spend most of my focus on healing any damage she takes, if you want to work on my father. Call out if you need my help, though. He has a very, ah, volatile fighting style.”

“It’s like he doesn’t even try to dodge,” Yrel agreed with an exhausted sigh. “I will be glad when we are finished with this place.”

Anduin couldn’t agree more. He was starting to feel like one of those cave fish he’d heard about that lost their eyes from a lack of sunlight. Although he was sure that couldn’t happen to humans, it made him uneasy to think about. Returning to the surface would be a welcome gift. “Hopefully we won’t have much farther to go,” he said.

A loud splash caught his attention. Everyone turned as one to search for the source, only to see Wrathion standing at the edge of the lake looking thoughtfully at the water. A circle of ripples spread from a point in the lake where he had obviously heaved a rock. He looked up at them, seeming surprised to have caused a fuss. “There’s more than one,” he explained. “Look, they all reacted when I did that.”

He was right, Anduin realized as he strained his eyes to see farther out into the water. There were a few ripples deeper in the lake, although it was hard for him to see that far.

“I’d say at least two close to us,” Wrathion said. “It also looks like there might be a really big one in the deeper part, but it’s not coming closer so I can’t see it as well.”

Varian cut into the alarmed silence that followed Wrathion’s words. “This doesn’t change anything,” he said. “We still need to get across. Let’s just go as quickly as we can and hope we don’t draw their attention.”

* * *

 

There was something about this place that appealed to Wrathion in a way he couldn’t quite pin down. It was cold and miserable and he wasn’t enjoying his time down here any more than his companions were. He just couldn’t help thinking that with a few sources of warmth, like volcanic vents perhaps, and with all the moss burned off, it might make a very nice home for a dragon. The ceiling above the lake was high enough for even quite a large drake to fly comfortably. If the exits were only a bit wider it might be exactly the sort of place that the dragons of his flight would seek out for a lair. Perhaps that was why he felt so thoroughly unsettled by the sight of some unknown creatures living in the lake. Territorial impulses making themselves known, or something of the like.

He would have to be careful to ensure that it didn’t interfere with his concentration. That they were in a vulnerable position as they stepped out onto the bridge was painfully obvious. The group huddled together and, despite Varian’s urging for speed, moved slowly. Each step was measured, every stumble or stone knocked into the water prompted them to freeze and wait anxiously for an attack that did not come.

Midway across the lake, the water burst. Something massive erupted from the surface and shot toward the bridge like the striking head of a snake. Varian moved before the rest of them could react, drawing his sword and striking the creature across the face with a wild shout. It fell back into the water with a mighty splash, and the surface surged and rippled as the body of the creature rolled over in a dive. For the moment at least, it was gone.

Nobody was willing to move after that. They all stood, staring in dismay at the spot where the creature had disappeared. Finally, Jaina cleared her throat. “Did anybody get a good look at that?” she asked.

“It looked like a bone worm,” Yrel said, her voice shaking slightly. “A _very_ big one. They’re scavengers, opportunistic feeders. It shouldn’t be surprising that a colony lives in a place like this, but…. they’re not usually aquatic.” She frowned. “They tunnel through rock and dirt, usually. Swimming through water instead will give them less resistance, they’ll be much faster.”

“I remember those creatures from Outland,” Khadgar chimed in. “There was an infestation of them near the Dark Portal. They’re very nasty. We’ll have to be careful if we’re facing more than one.”

“We may not have to,” Wrathion said. He pointed down the bridge, knowing that his companions could not see as far as he could. “I see the way out. It’s past a deep pool. I think the large one I glimpsed earlier was there. It should keep the others at bay, so technically we may only have to deal with one.”

“Wonderful,” Varian growled. “One monster worm or several smaller ones. Not much of a choice, is it?” He started to put his sword back in its sheath, but then seemed to think better of it. “Let’s get this over with.”

Wrathion was inclined to agree with him. He sped up toward the platform he could see at the end of the bridge, claws involuntarily growing out in anticipation of the fight. It was all he could do to remember that he was not supposed to run too far ahead and keep himself near the group. He would never understand how fear and adrenaline could make people _slow_. In his mind, the sooner this threat was dealt with, the better.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the platform. Off to one side was a set of stairs leading up to another tunnel, winding upward away from the lake. However, the only way to get to them was to walk right past the edge of the platform where the water was already churning in the way that indicated the presence of something big under the surface. Wrathion briefly wondered how any of the Shadowmoon got past here to approach their leader, but he swiftly answered that question for himself when he saw a discarded orc skull near the edge. Bone worms were scavengers after all, and if they were eating something they would be too distracted to attack. And they _were_ under a burial ground. A perfect place to find bait for such a beast.

He refrained from voicing his conclusion, but unfortunately he could tell that the others had all noticed the same thing. Varian and Jaina looked enraged, while Khadgar, Anduin, and Yrel appeared downright nauseated. Mindful of Varian but wanting to ease Anduin’s discomfort, Wrathion moved so he could push their shoulders together. Anduin returned the touch and took a deep, gulping breath to steady himself. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, setting his jaw and looking to his father. “I’m ready when you are.”

Wrathion felt a smile breaking out on his face despite the tension. At that moment Anduin looked every inch a prince, even caked in dirt and moss and whatever unspeakable things they’d been crawling their way through. It had been too long since they’d had the chance to fight together. Having Anduin with him always made him feel like they could strike down the fiercest of enemies. “I’m ready too,” he chimed in, standing up straight and looking out toward the pool. “Call this creature up and we’ll carve it to pieces.”

Varian motioned for the group to get into position and looked thoughtfully at the platform’s edge, dropping off into the dark water in a way that made it look like a precipice down into a gaping cavern. Wrathion could understand his concern. It did not look like something that would be wise to get too close to. Casting around for something to throw other than a dropped bone, Varian found nothing. Instead, he lifted one armor-plated foot and stomped down onto the rock as hard as he could. The pool’s surface trembled, then fell still again. Another stomp yielded the same results. “Come on,” Varian growled at the water. “Show your face, you big, ugly-”

His third stomp, delivered with all the force he could muster, finally drew the worm up from where it had been resting under the surface. As soon as its head broke through, Wrathion wished they had tried to sneak by instead. Easily three times the size of the one they had confronted on the bridge, it kept on rising up until its head seemed to reach the ceiling. It was an illusion, it had to be, but Wrathion took an instantaneous step back. The others mirrored him. Only Varian managed to hold his ground, barely. He stared up at the top of the worm’s head, braced his feet on the ground, and leapt into battle without any further warning.

* * *

 

Jaina concentrated and began to form a massive fireball. Normally she would retreat a greater distance during a battle, but Varian wanted her up close so that her attacks would not lose force through travel. Looking up at the worm towering over them, she thought he had made the right decision. Thick scaly plates covered its body, protecting it from most forms of attack. If she was going to blast those off, she would need as much power in her strikes as possible. And she would need to do it soon. Varian and Wrathion were attacking the worm’s body with enthusiastic force, and yet it seemed to hardly feel the blows through its armor.

Scorching them off worked, she noted with grim satisfaction as her blast struck the worm on its neck and a plate cracked. It screeched and lunged for her before Varian had a chance to block it, demonstrating the horrifying speed that Yrel had guessed it would have. Jaina tried to leap back but she could tell that it wasn’t enough. Closing her eyes, she braced for a hit. It never came. Quicker than an eyeblink, one of Anduin’s shields shimmered into existence around her and the worm’s jaws bounced harmlessly off it. Anduin smiled at her, barely strained by the effort of blocking the hit. Jaina smiled back and returned to the business of blasting away the scales, aided by Wrathion.

For a young dragon, the amount of fire that Wrathion could produce was almost impossible to believe. At first they were aiming their fire at different scales, but a poorly aimed blast by Wrathion led them to the realization that trying to hit one at the same time yielded faster results. She was forced to try to coordinate with him by shouting instructions, which he only followed about half the time. Still, it meant that their overall damage was increased, so she tried not to get too angry. It was unthinkable that Wrathion might care more about his pride than about their success in the fight, but when she slipped and started sounding like she might throw a fireball at him instead, that was when he stopped listening.

Eventually, they made noticeable progress. After chipping away at a large plate covering the front of the worm’s neck for long enough, it crumbled on a blow from Varian and fell away into the water. The next blow cut deep into its flesh, and it thrashed and roared in anger. The next second, Jaina was knocked off her feet by a strong force pulling her toward the worm’s mouth. It was inhaling, she realized, trying to suck them in. The platform was crumbled and full of cracks and crannies and other places to hold on, she could see the others bracing themselves, but having been already overbalanced she could not find purchase on the ground. She found herself slipping over the edge and falling down into the lake.

The cold water was a shock to her system after charging up and casting so many fireballs, and at first she could not move. Then her reflexes kicked in and she gasped in a mouthful of water, choking and flailing on her way back to the surface. The water was where this creature _lived_ , along with the rest of its spawn. She needed to get out immediately. Could she teleport back to the platform? She couldn’t see it, and panic kept her from focusing enough to cast. Had anyone seen her fall?

She broke the surface and almost slipped right under again when her first breath of air sent her into a coughing fit. Most of the water had been expelled from her body but some of it had slipped down her throat and the chill of it felt like knives running down toward her lungs. Turning in the direction of the platform she smacked the water with her staff, sending up a big splash in hopes of drawing the attention of her companions.

“Over here, Archmage!” She turned toward the voice and saw Wrathion in his dragon form, floating serenely above the water’s surface. “The platform is low over here! I can’t carry you, but I can help you climb up!”

Jaina would take any help she was offered. She swam over as fast as she could, trying not to imagine a second, smaller worm swimming up below her to grab her in its jaws. Wrathion carefully dipped down toward the water, wingtips barely brushing the surface, and stretched out a talon to her. Taking hold of it, she immediately felt lighter. Wrathion was getting to be a very large whelp, and although she felt a little bit like her arm was being pulled off of her body, the lift helped her to grab onto the edge of the platform with her other hand. Once Anduin saw the top of her head above the platform, he cast a levitate spell on her to help out.

There was no time to breathe once she managed to drop down onto solid ground. Wrathion shifted back to his human form and kept hold of her arm, Anduin rushed to her side to take the other, and together they pulled her to her feet. With a mumbled word of apology, Anduin recast the shield on her and healed the scrapes she’d gotten while rolling off the platform. She shook her head at him to indicate that she didn’t blame him, and grit her teeth to refocus on casting.

Thankfully she didn’t have to keep it up for long. Another section of plate cracked off of the worm and Varian managed to stab it deeply. It threw its head back and shrieked, writhing in a way that threatened to knock them all back into the water with it, and then collapsed. Varian stood over the motionless corpse until he was certain it had stopped moving, then lowered his sword with a sigh of relief. “You all right, Jaina?”

“I’m fine,” she told him, but she couldn’t stop her legs from folding. “I just need to rest a minute.” Her robes were soaked through, she realized when her teeth started to chatter. Yrel and Anduin both crowded around her to heal her and restore her energy, while she carefully conjured a flame to begin drying herself. There would not be time to burn away all of the water, but she could at least reduce the risk of sending herself into hypothermia.

The healing was a relief, chasing away the weakness she had felt ever since she’d crashed into the water, but after a time she pushed them both away. Varian had wounds that needed tending, and she knew Khadgar had taken his fair share of stray swipes. Wrathion’s status remained unknown, she could never tell if he was injured or not unless he was on the verge of collapse. She watched Anduin going to check on him, and couldn’t find it in her to feel angry. Wrathion might have saved her life. She could allow him a moment of peace.

But only a moment. The passageway leading up and away from the lake glowed with an ominous light that made her shiver to look at it. Somehow she knew that their target was not far beyond that doorway. He would be expecting them, he would be waiting for them, and the longer they delayed here the more time it would give him to prepare for their arrival. Sitting back for just another minute, Jaina conjured herself some water and took a long drink. She had to regain as much energy as possible in these few moments before they moved on to the real battle ahead of them.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to say that I left off here just to cliffhanger you all to death, but actually I've been hitting my energy limits earlier and earlier each week and this week I just couldn't muster anything else. I feel pretty bad about it, but hopefully reaching the final boss will make up for it a little bit.
> 
> That said, I know I've been saying this for a while, but I'm going to try to wrap this story up within the next few chapters. I won't skimp on wordcount for the resolutions, I promise.

With the demise of the bone worm, other scavengers haunting the cavern grew bolder. Spiders lurked on the edges of the platform, their eyes glinting in the dim light. Varian kept his sword drawn just in case any of them decided to try anything. “We’ll move on as soon as Jaina is ready,” he said. Up ahead was a stone staircase, and the doorway at the top exuded a sense of grim finality. Although the stairs were illuminated by the faint glow of spirit essence being drawn in, that light vanished once it reached its destination. Varian had once heard that there were things out on the far reaches of the universe that devoured all light that came near, and hadn’t understood how such a feat was possible. Now he felt like he was witnessing a simulation, as close to that kind of power as it was possible to get within mortal boundaries.

A shiver went up his spine and he gripped his sword tighter. The wolf in him had his hackles raised, the fight or flight instinct surging to its greatest heights. Some warriors claimed that fear was weakness, a distraction in battle, but Varian knew otherwise. He was reckless, impulsive, and his rage in battle could make him take too many risks. It was his wolf’s primal fear, the sense of self-preservation, that kept him in check and allowed him to keep a clear head against a strong opponent.

“I only need a few minutes,” Jaina said, conjuring some fire to warm herself up. “Just long enough to dry my robes enough that they won’t slow me down. I’m sorry to hold us up.” She shared his unease, they all did. Knowing that their final challenge waited just up those stairs and knowing that they were expected was making tensions run high. Ner’zhul had been given the advantage of time, one which he was unlikely to have wasted. As soon as he’d been made aware of their presence in his stronghold he would have begun amassing his power and building up his defenses. They would be coming at him without any of that. All they could do was throw their best at him and hope it would be enough to topple him.

A short distance away, Anduin was healing some scrapes on Wrathion’s arms. Varian turned his attention to the two of them, but kept his back turned so they wouldn’t notice him eavesdropping. He would not begrudge one of his fighters a healing, but he wanted to make sure he caught every word they said to each other.

“-Got back to Lunarfall safely, the druid Moonshadow is with them,” Wrathion was saying. “Right just contacted me. I thought you might like to hear it.”

“You were right,” Anduin said. “I’m glad they’re okay, thanks for telling me. Does that feel any better?”

“Much,” Wrathion replied appreciatively. “I can move the elbow now without pulling it open again.” He paused then, for long enough that Varian thought Anduin might have walked away, but then spoke again. “Are you okay?”

Varian turned around at that, looking more closely at Anduin and automatically cursing his own inattention. If Anduin was hurt he should have noticed, no matter how many other things were on his mind. As a father, there was no excuse. But Anduin looked unharmed. He was sitting next to Wrathion with his shoulders slumped in exhaustion, the same exhaustion that everyone else was feeling, looking away toward the far end of the lake.

At first Anduin didn’t answer. Then it seemed to sink in that he’d been asked a question, because he made a surprised noise and looked back at Wrathion. “I’m sorry, I got a little distracted for a minute. What did you say?” He smiled, but it looked strained.

“I asked if you were okay.” Wrathion looked around him, as if to check that nobody was listening in. Varian quickly looked down and mimed checking his sword for damage. Once Wrathion was satisfied, he turned back to Anduin with a look of concern that looked surprisingly sincere. “You’ve been acting far away. Is there something troubling you?”

A soft splash reached Varian’s ears as Anduin tossed a small pebble into the lake. “There is,” he answered Wrathion at last, “but there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh come now Prince Anduin, you know that isn’t allowed.” Wrathion inched closer to Anduin with a playful smile. “We agreed on it, don’t you remember? If something is wrong, we don’t keep it from each other.” His smile faded from a teasing grin to a more serious expression and he put a hand on Anduin’s knee. Varian quelled the desire to go over there and rip it off. He wanted to know what was the matter too, if Wrathion could get Anduin to open up then he would be a fool not to take advantage of it.

Anduin sighed loudly enough that Jaina looked over at him, then waited for the attention to fade away before he answered. “This place is starting to get to me.” He picked up another stone and turned it over in his hand, examining it closely but with no apparent goal. “It’s not unmanageable, but being around so much shadow and void energy is… tiring. It drains my energy. And there’s so much death here, there are reminders of it everywhere.” Dropping the rock, he brought his elbows to rest on his knees and set his head down in his hands. “I can’t stop thinking about how sad it is that these people can’t properly rest, and how we’ll have to kill someone else to help them. I wish there was another way.”

“I know you do.” Wrathion was so quiet now that Varian had to strain to hear him, dropping all pretense of doing anything but listening in and hoping that neither of them would look up and see him. “You would try to talk the Lords of Darkness down from their perches if you thought you had a chance. And I would give you that chance if I could.”

“Thank you.” Anduin leaned over to bump their shoulders together, but didn’t straighten back up when he had. Instead he appeared to be overcome by how tired he was and stayed there, leaning on Wrathion.

They rested there for a minute until Jaina decided to end the moment. “I’m ready to keep going,” she said, extinguishing her fire and standing up to brush some of the dust off her robes. Varian sent her a grateful look. He didn’t know if she had been listening in as well, but he was glad to have someone else break it up. Anduin already saw him as the bad guy and he wanted to keep the infighting to a minimum.

As they moved toward the staircase, Varian couldn’t help looking more closely at Wrathion. Contrary to the tone he’d always used when they spoke, he had almost sounded sincere when talking to Anduin. If Varian didn’t know better, he would almost believe that Wrathion was willing to manipulate the universe for Anduin. His imitation of a supportive, even loving partner was an impressive one. Not impressive enough to fool him, but enough to warrant a closer look after they got out of the crypts. Until then, he had bigger things to worry about.

* * *

 

Perhaps it was cheating to use his wings to ascend to the top of the staircase before the others had made it halfway up yet, but fair play did not matter for something so small. Wrathion landed smugly at the doorway and peered inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the orc they were here to fight. Instead, all he saw was a small, dark room. Walls on either side partially enclosed raised stone platforms, upon which lay the mummified remains of several Shadowmoon ancestors. Wrathion wondered who they had been in life. Important figures to be sure, or they would not have been buried so far down in such an intricate maze. Despite their status, he could see that the remains had not escaped being tampered with.

As he was about to step into the room for a closer look, a shimmering by the wall nearest the door caught his attention and made him pause. From experience he knew that glowing purple lights in dark places were not a good omen. Slowly the glow became more solid and separated into two, forming into a pair of void elementals guarding the back wall. A false wall, then. It couldn’t be anything else. There was no other way forward but through this room. Wrathion stepped back away from the doorway, but the elementals did not disappear. “I hope everyone’s ready to introduce themselves,” he called back over his shoulder. “There’s some kind of hidden door back here, but Ner’zhul has been kind enough to send some of his servants out to take our coats.”

Varian’s reply was drowned out by the sound of his armored boots on the stairs as he hurried up for a look, but from the tone of his voice Wrathion guessed that he’d hit a breaking point. “More of these damned things!” Varian growled in frustration when he’d reached Wrathion and taken a look into the room. “And you think they’re guarding an entrance? Not much of a challenge.”

“No, it’s not.” Jaina came up behind them and sized up the elementals. “Anyone who could make it past that bone worm would have no trouble dispatching those elementals. I doubt he has the posted as guards. More likely, he’s using them as beacons. He wants us to know he’s here, and that he knows we’re coming. It’s a classic intimidation tactic.”

“Or it could be a trap.” Varian frowned. “Intimidation tactics are more effective before the enemy breaches your gates. More to the point, I’m not intimidated.” He gestured dismissively at the void elementals. “With our group, we could fight three times that number without any trouble. This isn’t a show of strength, it’s practically an invitation to come charging right in.”

“Which we’re going to do regardless, of course.” Khadgar chimed in. Varian and Jaina both turned around to look at him and he shrugged amiably. “Whatever the intended effect of these guardians, there is only one way to go. Unless you want to turn around and go back the way we came, but it would be a little bit silly to leave without taking out our target.”

Wrathion smiled appreciatively. While Khadgar was still prone to bouts of overthinking, he tended to get them out of the way before a major confrontation was at hand. He wondered if the offer to work with him on disarming the Iron Horde would still be open once this immediate threat was dispatched. Khadgar seemed like someone he could learn to get along with. “I agree,” he said. “No amount of dithering about in doorways will make us more prepared. Either we are strong enough to unseat Ner’zhul, in which case we will return home victorious, or we are not, in which case we will most probably die. So, shall we?” Stepping into the doorway, he turned and held his arm out as if he was ushering the group into a formal event.

Muttering something about _deranged, suicidal dragons_ , Varian pushed past him. Wrathion smiled at the rest of the group as they filed in one by one, but stopped Khadgar with a hand on his arm before he went in. “If things go wrong,” he said in a whisper, “can you teleport Anduin out of here?”

“King Varian asked me the same thing this morning,” Khadgar replied, smiling like he was inviting Wrathion to share a joke. “I’ll tell you what I told him, which is that I can try my best. Anything can happen in a battle, so I make no promises beyond that.”

“Good enough for me.” Wrathion released Khadgar’s arm and moved swiftly to take his place just behind Varian. Missing the start of a fight due to a distraction would throw him off for the rest of the day, and he needed to be on top of things.

He fell into his battle stance just in time. Varian charged just as he finished settling himself and planning his first move, striking the elemental on the left with a heavy blow. The one on the right left its post and floated over to help its companion. Wrathion hesitated for the space of a breath, then sprang forward to attack that one. As long as it was distracted trying to get through the shield that now sprung to life around Varian, he could wear it down without fear.

Stabbing downward into the elemental’s shoulder with his dagger, he cringed as the weapon sank in. Disgusting. Void elementals were semi-solid in the same way that water elementals were, but they were more like quicksand in that anything that went into them tended to stay there. It was an effort to wrench his weapon free, his only consolation being that he did even more damage to the creature in the process. It didn’t seem to notice him at all, just kept on mechanically attacking Varian with the cold focus that was the trademark of weaker void beings. He would be seeing those blank eyes in his nightmares, he was sure. With any luck these two would be the last creatures of the void he had to face for a very long time.

The elementals went down within seconds of each other, collapsing into themselves with the horrible rushing noise of a summoned creature leaving the physical world. As soon as their shackles hit the ground, the wall behind them crumbled. Wrathion stared at the new opening, struggling to process what he was seeing quickly enough. All of the spirits being pulled through the maze of tunnels were converging on the chamber beyond, swirling in midair and generating so much energy that they were holding a figure aloft. This had to be Ner’zhul. While many orcs turned to magic after finding themselves unable to keep up with their brethren physically, Ner’zhul was large and imposing. He was known for being a master of shadow magic, but clearly would have been able to fight his way to leadership of the clan even without it.

At first he seemed not to notice them, more concerned with manipulating the energies found within his twisting stream of spirits. When he spoke, it was without turning his head away from the power coalescing at the roof of his ritual chamber. “So, you’ve all made it. I was worried that my invitation would go unanswered.” He let out a humorless laugh. “But here you are, walking boldly up to my doorstep. Now I will show you the dark powers I have been granted, and you will understand how useless it is to struggle against our Horde.”

Finally he looked away from his ritual, and extended one hand to beckon them forward. Wrathion heard Varian take in a breath to say something defiant in reply, but the words never arrived. There was a surge of motion at the corners of his eyes and he felt suddenly dizzy, like he’d been standing on a patch of solid ground that had dropped away from him with no warning. Sensations dulled. Wrathion felt Anduin grab onto him for support, but it was as if he’d been touched through several layers of thick blanket. Barely able to keep his own footing, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the ringing in his ears.

When it finally stopped, Wrathion opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t. Ner’zhul had physically transported them to a platform floating in an endless, dark space. The knowledge of where they were presented itself at once, and was met with firm denial. Wrathion shook his head, unable to block out his own thoughts. Ner’zhul could not be powerful enough to take them all into the void realm, but yet there they were.

“Now you see,” Ner’zhul crowed, holding out his arms in triumph. “The Dark Star chose me as its prophet, and granted me power beyond your imagination. In return, I will grant it your deaths.”


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend everyone! I am excited because this story is almost done! Following this chapter there will be one more "official" chapter, followed by an epilogue the week after, and then I can set this AU down and walk away from it in peace. I hope you all like this climactic final battle.

“Everyone get back,” Varian said, instinctively trying to group the others behind him despite the fact that there was nowhere for them to go. He didn’t want to know what would happen if one of them got too close to the edge of the platform. “We don’t know what he’s planning on doing. Keep within arm’s reach, I don’t want anyone getting thrown off.”

They bunched together without question or complaint, everyone seeking to maximize the distance between themselves and the swirling void over the edge of their patch of ground. Yrel and Anduin were both praying under their breaths, calling out to the Light for comfort in this place where it seemed so absent. The slow rhythm of it helped Varian focus on his breathing and his stance, and he was sure it was helping calm the others as well.

As it turned out, that calm was an illusion. Yrel stopped her praying when Ner’zhul let out an especially ugly laugh, while Anduin’s voice took on a desperate edge to it. Light flickered around his hands, far weaker than usual, like the trembling of a candle in a breeze instead of the warm light of a sunbeam.

“Can you feel it, little priest?” Ner’zhul asked mockingly. “The void closing in on you and snuffing out that light you hold so dear? This is my power. Do you think you can stand against it?”

Anduin shivered in fear but stepped in front of Varian, invoking strong memories of the small boy who used to come to his room at night insisting that he be allowed to stay in case something happened. Varian’s biggest regret about his abduction by Onyxia’s servants was the fear it had instilled in Anduin, which he knew had given him nightmares until the day he’d left home to train with Velen. For all Varian knew, Anduin was still haunted by losing him to forces he could not control. That he was able to stand at Varian’s side and fight together with a black dragon, one of Onyxia’s close relatives, was a testament to his forgiving nature.

“It’s no great trick to use dark magic,” Anduin challenged. “Anyone could do it. I can do it. Letting it overcome you isn’t strength, it just shows that you don’t have enough control over yourself.” He started out strong, but faltered midway through his speech. It was difficult for any of them to feel genuinely confident in this place where they were so clearly at a disadvantage.

Ner’zhul laughed again and took a step closer to them. “Pretty words, no doubt recited like a good student from the mouth of your teacher. You’ll soon find that the true reality of this universe is far less restrictive than the vision spun by cowards and weaklings. I had thought to give you the chance to strike first, as a courtesy to the guests in my home, but my patience is running out. There is nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, and your Light cannot reach you here. Come and meet your fate while you still have the chance to die with honor, instead of whimpering like dogs.”

That was all the warning Varian needed. Foolish as it might be to attack an enemy whose full powers were unknown, it would be even more foolish to allow that same enemy to strike first. “Remember to stay close,” he told the others. “You mages especially, don’t worry about catching me in your casts. Keep yourselves safe.” Grounding himself into the proper attack stance was especially difficult in this swirling void where he could barely tell up from down, but the basics remained the same. Feet apart for balance, knees bent for motion, stomach tight to protect against any blows that made it through his defenses.

In this battle, there was no catching Ner’zhul off guard. Instead of charging in for a powerful blow, he moved in more carefully to allow the others to stay tightly bunched behind him. That didn’t stop his first strike from being executed at full strength, but it wouldn’t matter even if had because Ner’zhul dodged it. The magic he was using had levitated him during his ritual and still kept him unnaturally light on his feet. The smug grin on his face was more infuriating than any taunts he could possibly come up with. Varian had to push his mind one step back from his body so that he wouldn’t become careless in his anger.

His first mistake became apparent when Ner’zhul began his attack in earnest. After dodging and blocking several strikes from Varian, he stood back and began casting a spell. The precise effect that it would have was not clear, but the shadows beginning to seep up from between the stones of the platform made it clear that unless something was done quickly, it would hit the entire group. Varian trusted his armor and his personal fortitude to keep him safe from a direct strike, but he had no such faith in the defenses of the others. “Everyone move!” He called, throwing his shoulder into Ner’zhul to knock his aim off.

It worked, but only just. A corner of Khadgar’s robe was caught when the spell went off, singing it into dark, vile-smelling smoke. Varian had his leg in the radius and the armor instantly heated to nearly unbearable levels. When the spell faded, the plating that had been affected was tarnished so badly that he doubted any amount of polish would restore the shine. Seeing that, he was forced to reevaluate his strategy. Shielding the others by blocking spells for them would not work. One direct hit like that would be survivable, but after so many difficult battles to reach this point he did not have the strength to stand up to more than that. Anduin’s shielding, normally a force he would hang his life on, was weakened in this place where light could not reach. Speed and tactics would win this fight, not brute force. If only it was safe to spread out. Blocking many attacks from one spot was much easier for Ner’zhul than blocking the same number of attacks from different spots.

Varian grit his teeth and got ready to do some footwork. It would be his job to direct Ner’zhul’s attention and expose weak spots to his teammates, however briefly, all while keeping within a safe radius. He’d had to do similar things during his time as a gladiator, but the stakes were lower then. He hadn’t been at risk of dying in a side pocket of reality, far from home in the middle of a war, with his only named successor by his side. For the sake of his son, his army, his kingdom, and his whole world, he needed to walk out of this battle alive.

Smaller bolts of shadow magic hit his armor every minute or so, fired by Ner’zhul in between physical blows that were formidible even without a weapon. Where the shadows struck, they left dark stains and made the muscles around the impact sites feel weakened for long after the initial pain faded away. Varian knew he was being worn down. Despite the efforts from his healers, there was a time limit for the battle. Too much abuse and he would lose the strength to continue on. At the same time, he could see that the attacks from Khadgar, Jaina, and Wrathion were having an effect on Ner’zhul. Sometimes his strikes were slowed. A few of the spells hit with less force than the rest. He just needed to hold out until Ner’zhul reached a tipping point and his defenses failed. Varian bit the inside of his mouth hard as Ner’zhul began charging up another large spell. He could hold out. He had to.

* * *

 

Wrathion tugged hard on Anduin's wrist to pull him out of the radius of the spell. All the running around wasn't doing the magic users any favors. Anduin was keeping up well so far but they had a long way to go. The more help he got now, the longer he would be able to last. He could tell that Anduin was frustrated by his power being suppressed, but Wrathion had no illusions about their survivability. Hobbled the way he was, Anduin was still a much more powerful healer than Yrel. If Anduin went down, the rest of them would follow in a matter of moments.

  
If he could just get in close enough for a few well-placed stabs, Ner’zhul would be down before anyone had to worry about running out of energy. He wasn’t even wearing armor, all the soft spots that had been meticulously drilled into him when he was learning how to fight were exposed. It was said, however, that the best defense was a good offense. With the amount of shadow magic that Ner’zhul was slinging around, anyone who tried to get up close to him risked getting a face full of it. Until his adult scales grew in, Wrathion would not be able to stand up to that kind of onslaught. He was surprised that Varian Wrynn hadn’t collapsed yet. If he didn’t have Anduin there to help him recover, he would not have lasted nearly this long.

Ner’zhul pulled back, and for a brief moment Wrathion almost believed he would surrender. Instead he spread out his hands for a different spell, and then the final resting place of the Shadowmoon’s most honored ancestors became clear. Skeletal figures, not quite spectral but not quite solid, formed into being along the far edge of the platform. Their bones burned with the same dark energy that had taken part of Khadgar’s robe, and as they slowly marched forward in a line their feet left scorch marks on the stone below them. Every instinct of Wrathion’s screamed at him not to touch them, but their line stretched across the entire floor with no visible gaps.

“How are we getting around these?” he called out, hoping one of the others had spotted something he’d missed.

“We’re not,” Varian shouted back. “We’ll have to break though! Everyone get behind me!” He turned from Ner’zhul, who passed through the line of skeletons as if they were completely incorporeal, and planted his feet to face down the one in the middle of the line.

Wrathion hurried to meet him, hoping that Varian was not underestimating the strength of these new enemies. If they were too sturdy to break, then their entire group would be pushed off the platform. He could shapeshift, he told himself. Fly up and over the line, attack from the other side where it was safe. But if he did that he wouldn’t be able to coordinate his attacks with the others. If he saved himself, nobody else would be safe, and then he might have to face down Ner’zhul alone. He growled and stood his ground. A regular whelp would fly and leave the danger for the grown drakes around it, but he had never been an ordinary whelp. He had been fighting difficult battles since the day he’d hatched, and he wouldn’t give in to those instincts now when someone he cared about needed him to stay and fight.

At that thought, he noticed that Anduin was no longer by his side. The two mages had teleported themselves in as soon as Varian called to them, Yrel had given up on her healing and was viciously attacking the skeletons with her mace, Anduin was nowhere near. He had been right next to Wrathion the entire fight, so where…?

He had been there when Wrathion was looking for a gap at the end of the line. Stepping back from the group, Wrathion looked over toward the edge of the platform and spotted Anduin’s bright clothes right away against the dark stone. He was on his hands and knees, face contorted in pain. His left foot was resting at an odd angle, and Wrathion realized with a jolt that he must have caught it on the uneven stones. As he watched, his attacks on Varian’s target faltering, Anduin tried again to get up but could not put any weight on the foot and fell back down.

Varian looked back to see why he had stopped his attacks, followed his line of sight, and quickly put the pieces together. “Go and get him!” he yelled over the clatter of bones on steel. “We can handle this one!”

No further encouragement was needed. Sheathing his weapons, Wrathion sprinted across the platform toward Anduin. The line of skeletons was advancing every second, they didn’t have a lot of time. They reached Anduin just seconds before he did, and when they touched him a burst of shadow magic erupted from the point of contact. Anduin was propelled back several feet with a pained cry, landing hard on his injured side. He raised his head right away and cast a spell to fend off the skeletons, but it had no effect on their approach.

“Here, grab onto me, quick.” Wrathion skidded to a halt next to Anduin, taking on his dragon form as he went. Four legs were better than two for stability. Anduin took hold of his wing at the joint, which was briefly painful but the triumph of getting him back on his feet was worth it. Aligning himself along Anduin’s left side to support the injured foot, Wrathion led them in a quick hobble-trot back toward the others. Anduin’s hand dug into his side in a death grip and he wheezed in pain with every step. They needed to finish this fight right away, before he gave out completely.

A well-placed fireball from Jaina knocked the center skeleton down just in time for them to rush through before they were forced off into the void. Ner’zhul stood in the center of the platform watching them with a grin on his face, like seeing them struggle to stay in the fight was great fun for him. Wrathion was sure it was a bluff. No matter how much power he commanded, if he kept expending it like he had been he would soon run out. Already he had transported them here, performed an impressive feat of necromancy, levitated himself, and battled Varian with the intent to kill. He had a limit, and it was close. They just had to push him a little farther.

Unfortunately, they also had their limits. Anduin might already have hit his. He was able to stay up by hanging onto Wrathion’s wing at the joint, but he was moving like a sleepwalker, focusing only on the next step and largely unresponsive to the rest of the world. He’d stopped healing when he was hit by the shadow burst, Yrel had taken over but would not last much longer either. Wrathion curled his wing up and over to draw Anduin into his side and block the renewed attacks that Ner’zhul launched. Varian was still taking the brunt of them, but now and then a stray spell would fire off wildly at a random target. If he stayed like this he could ensure that Anduin would not take any more damage. The downside was that it severely restricted his ability to fight. Leaping into the fray and clawing at Ner’zhul was out of the question, so all he could do was breathe fire in the brief moments when he saw an opening.

Jaina signalled to Varian, a hand motion that meant nothing to Wrathion but apparently carried some meaning with it because Varian adjusted his strategy right away. Instead of keeping close to the group he risked venturing father away, drawing Ner’zhul off with him. As soon as the space was clear, Jaina performed the fastest summoning spell Wrathion had ever seen and a water elemental surged to life. Khadgar seemed to catch on and did a quick spell of his own. His elemental was noticeably smaller, and Wrathion briefly recalled hearing him say when they started out that water magic was not a strength of his.

Never one to pass up an opportunity, Wrathion backed up to give them more space and took a moment to rest and build up his energy in case he found an opening to join in on their attack. Ner’zhul was focused on chasing Varian, interpreting his backward movement as a retreat and paying very little attention to what was going only a few feet away. He didn’t even seem to have noticed the elementals being summoned. They wouldn’t get a better chance than this to catch him off his guard and bring him down. Drawing himself up and expanding his chest, Wrathion took a deep breath while the mages and their familiars charged up their attacks. Ner’zhul turned to face fully away from them, and everyone launched their strongest abilities as one.

* * *

 

At first Varian thought the explosion was a signal that their time was up. That the magic Ner’zhul had used to create this space was collapsing, and very soon they would all be thrown out into the void. He was thrown back, hands instinctively coming up to protect his face, and his sword clattered to the ground nearby. These sensations were not followed by horrible, searing pain or slow, weightless suffocation, so he cautiously opened one eye to take stock of his surroundings. Nearly everyone was down. Khadgar and Jaina were slumped down, exhausted, leaning their backs against each other for support. Yrel cast a final healing spell on him, barely denting the soreness that permeated his body, and then went down herself, lying on the floor and panting for air.

Had they won? Sitting up slowly, Varian did a mental check over himself to make sure everything was working. On the ground near him, an ashen-colored body lay splayed out and still. He struggled to his feet and prodded Ner’zhul with the tip of his sword, meeting no response. To make sure he would not get up again, Varian raised his sword and brought it down hard between Ner’zhul’s shoulder blades.

“Anyone wounded?” he asked once he pulled his sword free.

“Over here.” Wrathion’s voice was shaky as he sat up. He shifted back to his humanoid form, revealing Anduin lying prone on the ground. “He was conscious right up until he saw Ner’zhul fall, but then…”

He didn’t finish. Varian felt the air leave his lungs. He rushed over and placed a hand on Anduin’s chest. He was breathing, but his face had gone pale and he was completely unresponsive. “What happened?” he demanded. “I thought I told you to get him.”

“I did,” Wrathion said. “He hurt his foot and then those skeletons pushed him, but he was up and walking right up until a minute ago. I didn’t think he was hurt that badly, he’s not bleeding anywhere.” He crouched down near Anduin’s head and reached out to take his hand.

Varian batted it away. “Give him space. Yrel, what’s wrong with him?” He reached out and practically dragged her over when she approached.

“I’m not sure,” Yrel said thoughtfully. She knelt down on Anduin’s other side and looked at him critically, opening one of his eyelids and testing the reactions. “I do know that he was especially affected by the dark energy in this place. It was taking him a lot of energy to use his abilities as normal. Perhaps he’s just drained himself too far.”

“Let’s get him out of here then.” Varian lifted Anduin carefully in his arms and looked around. “Khadgar, Jaina, can you get us back to Lunarfall?”

Jaina shook her head. “With all this interference, it’s too far. But let me try something. Now that Ner’zhul is dead, the power keeping us locked here has dissipated.” She used the end of her staff to scribble a few symbols on a stone not too far away, and repeated the movements in the air above her drawings. Slowly but purposefully, a portal appeared in the air. “This should take us back to the physical realm, I can’t guarantee where.”

“Good enough for me.” Varian walked through the portal, closing his eyes against the bright light. When he opened it again, he was back in the Shadowmoon tunnels, with a low ceiling above him and a number of freed spirits milling about.

Wrathion followed him through next and his face lit up. “I know where this is!” he said. “This is the side tunnel I came in through. If we follow it, we should be out in just a few minutes.”

“Not yet.” Varian waited for the others to come through. “Yrel, try to get Anduin conscious.”

Yrel stepped forward, blinking the light from the portal out of her eyes, and started healing. Next to her, Wrathion rummaged around in his bag. “I have a healing potion,” he said. “I just remembered. As long as it hasn’t broken, it should help. Ah, here we go.” Smiling triumphantly, he pulled a small glass bottle out. “Once he wakes up we can give him this, and Yrel can have a break.”

Upon handing the bottle over to Yrel, he sat back and watched Anduin intently. It occurred to Varian how very normal his red glowing eyes had begun to seem after he’d spent so much time down in the dark with them. But now they were burning with a fiercer intensity than he could remember seeing, fixed on Anduin’s face for any sign of movement. When that movement came, the change was instantaneous. Anduin’s eyes twitched, his brows wrinkled, and Wrathion’s expression softened. With a quick, apologetic glance at Varian he reached out and stroked Anduin’s forehead just once, then sat back again as his eyes opened.

“Here you go Prince Anduin, drink this.” Yrel held out the potion to him.

Anduin frowned and blinked a few times to focus. “Thanks,” he mumbled, reaching out for the potion. After he’d taken a few sips of it he seemed to regain a bit more strength. Swallowing the rest of it, he started trying to sit up. “I’m okay. Did anybody else get hurt?”

“We’re all fine,” Wrathion assured him. “You did wonderfully. Not a scratch on the rest of us.”

“Good.” Anduin tried to get up, but grimaced when he moved his leg. “I don’t think I can stand.”

Varian moved right away to take his arm, and when he had Anduin lifted up onto his feet he looked over and saw Wrathion steadying his other side. They met eyes for a second and Varian was the first to look away. “Yrel, you go up first,” he said. “Mages stay behind up, but keep close. The sooner we get him on a gryphon back to Lunarfall, the better.”

Slowly but surely, the group made their way back up out of the tunnels. It might have taken minutes and it might have taken hours, all Varian knew was that it was dusk when they emerged. It always seemed to be dusk in Shadowmoon Valley, but what little light appeared during the day was vanishing fast. He squinted to make out the landmarks he’d taken note of when they landed, and started off toward the grove of trees where they’d left the gryphons. With any luck, the few orcs patrolling around the outside of the burial grounds would not have gone far enough out to discover them. Even those orcs were gone now, the death of Ner’zhul had sent the clan into a fit of panic. Weapons lay abandoned on the ground where their owners had dropped them to run down the tunnels and see what had happened. Their way out was unobstructed, the attack was over.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it, kids!!!! This is the last story chapter of Draenor Days! When I started it, I was shooting for a medium-length story to exercise my writing skills before I tried to do anything more serious. I missed that goal by quite a long way, but I learned a lot about my limits, abilities, and how to keep a story going over a long period of time. I've spent just shy of a year working on this fic, and I am very proud of that. 
> 
> You'll notice that I'm not marking it as complete yet. An epilogue chapter will be going up next week, because I am a big sap and I enjoy happy endings, and I'm sure the rest of you do too. But this is the end of the plot. I have a few ideas for things to work on next, and I'm excited to get to them. Anyone who is interested can also follow my writing blog (https://wolfwritingblog.tumblr.com/), where I may post updates on what I'm working on or short things that aren't polished enough to go here.
> 
> I'm very grateful to everyone who's been following along. Some of you have even stuck with me since I started, which is crazy to think about! I appreciate all your support and motivational words when I was feeling down about myself. Love you guys! =D
> 
> Edit: a half a paragraph went on an adventure and has been safely returned

Naturally there was a commotion when they’d landed at Lunarfall. Varian was used to that sort of thing, as the King he tended to cause commotions wherever he went. In this case, however, he had found himself wishing everyone would just go away. Wrathion’s potion had begun to wear off mid-flight, and they were still miles out from Lunarfall when Anduin slipped back into unconsciousness. Varian had pushed the gryphons faster, leaving Wrathion and his shorter wingspan trailing behind in his rush to get back to the garrison where there was a team of healers waiting for them. He would find his way back on his own, Shadowmoon Valley wasn’t terribly difficult to navigate from the air.

Carrying Anduin in his arms was not as easy as it had once been. He’d grown a lot since leaving home to live in Pandaria, and despite the setback that the incident with the Divine Bell had caused he was certainly a little taller now than he’d been when he left. Varian adjusted his grip, careful not to jostle him too hard, and wished he could have an arm free to push through the crowd. “Everyone back up,” he barked. “Someone take the gryphons so we can all get to the healers. It’s been a rough mission and my son is hurt.”

The request seemed to only spur the crowd on, but eventually the gryphons were handed over, guardsmen formed a barrier around the exhausted fighters, and they were escorted with as much haste as possible to the newly repaired medical wing in the Lunarfall barracks. Construction on it had been almost finished when the attack on the garrison pushed it back, but Alliance builders were nothing if not efficient and it was now fully operational. Varian wanted to stay with Anduin, but the healers insisted that he be given his own section, a bed cordoned off with hanging curtains and set apart somewhat from the corridors of activity running through the wing.

“We’ll have him right as rain by the morning,” a cheerful gnome assured him, leading him away to have his own wounds seen to. “Not a scratch on him, just overexertion and a dose of shock from the strain. Nothing we can’t handle. You, on the other hand, have several scrapes that could get infected if you keep resisting treatment. Now sit down and get that armor off so I can work.”

His tone had taken a sharp turn for exasperation and bordered on threatening, so Varian had no choice but to comply. The sharp sting of disinfectant as his wounds were dressed erased his concerns for anybody else and left him growling by the time the last bandage was tied. The gnome smiled and patted him on the knee. “That’s better. One of the senior healers will be in soon to close those wounds up properly, so just wait here and try to relax.” He departed without another word, probably to inflict the same torment on Khadgar or Jaina.

Varian hated places like this. The smell of disinfecting alcohol and bandages, the light, sterile blankets, the constant presence of healers moving around to tend to patients. All of it brought him back to the day he’d sat motionless in a room just like this one for hours and hours until finally, the head healer had pulled him aside and told him that there was nothing they could do, the damage to Tiffin’s skull was too great and she was going to die. The only consolation they could offer was that she was being kept asleep until the inevitable happened and would feel no pain. Unconscious and unresponsive, just the way Anduin was in the far corner of the medical wing.  
  
Taking hold of the blanket he’d been given, Varian lay down on his bed and pulled the sheets up over his eyes. He could feel the exhaustion in his bones. If he could sleep then he could wake up when Anduin was well again and there would be no need to worry. Closing his eyes against the faint light filtering in through the thin fabric, he listened to the sounds around him to try and calm his mind. Jaina was being treated just around the corner, he could hear her talking to her healer. On the other end of the wing was Khadgar, already asleep, filling the air with rumbling snores. It was a wonder that any of the other patients could rest through that, Varian thought, his worry giving way to faint amusement as he drifted off.

He woke, some time later, to the sound of a heated argument being conducted in loud whispers not far away. Pretending to be asleep still, he quietly lifted the edge of the blanket to see what it was about. Comprehension followed swiftly. Wrathion was back, and stirring up trouble as usual. This time he was in a standoff with one of the junior healers, who had him backed up into a corner with an arm full of bandages.

“Keep your hands off me,” Wrathion hissed, eyes darting around the room. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“But you’re bleeding,” the young human protested. She brandished the bandages emphatically. “If you’d just let me-”

“I said no, how many times must you be told?” Wrathion snarled at her, and to her credit she didn’t even flinch. “I am a dragon, injuries like this will be gone within a day. They only reopened because I had to fly very fast to keep up with your returning gryphons, not that it mattered after they left me behind.” So he was still angry about that, Varian thought. He’d thought that since it was clearly for Anduin’s benefit maybe Wrathion would let it go, but it seemed that he had no intention of doing so. “I’m just here to see the Prince,” Wrathion continued. “Not to be healed myself. Where is he?”

The healer stared him down, folding her arms over her chest. “He’s not in a condition for visitors,” she said. “Even the King isn’t supposed to see him now. He needs rest. You can see him in the morning when the sleeping potion wears off, like everyone else.”

“I’m not going to wake him,” Wrathion said. “Unless you don’t tell me where he is, in which case I will begin waking everyone until I find out.”

Without Anduin present to keep his manners in check, Wrathion had quickly reverted back into the spoiled, stubborn self-styled prince that he was. He stared at the healer with one eyebrow raised, waiting to get what he wanted. And to Varian’s disappointment, the healer gave in. “He’s in that curtained area over there,” she said with a sigh, pointing at the line of enclosed beds. “Third section from the window. Make no noise, and keep the curtain open. You have five minutes.”

Wrathion crossed the room in seconds, and pulled the curtain open. Varian lifted his head slightly, hoping for a look at Anduin himself. He wasn’t disappointed. Despite the sleeping potion, Anduin was restless. Varian had heard him tossing about in his sleep, and he had kicked the blanket off. To Varian’s relief, he looked better. The color was returning to his skin, and his breathing was slow and even. Wrathion stood at the edge of the bed looking down at him for a long moment. Absently, he reached down to pull the blanket back up and wrap it firmly around Anduin. When he was satisfied with that task, he placed his hand on Anduin’s forehead and held it there. Varian could see his mouth moving, but from his distance he couldn’t tell what was being said.

On his way out, only a few minutes later, Wrathion turned his head toward Varian and gave him a slight nod. Varian nodded back, giving up on the pretense of sleep. Wrathion must have known he was awake the entire time. He wanted to ask where he was headed in such a hurry so late at night, but Wrathion had already gone.

* * *

 

Some resistance to his plan was to be expected, but Wrathion had figured that it would come largely from the armies of the Alliance, not from his own agents. And yet here he was, faced down with a furious Left. If not for Right’s firm hold on her arm, he almost thought that she might rush forward and try to grab him. “Say that again,” she said, and it wasn’t a question. Wrathion had only ever heard that low, menacing tone directed at enemies before. Left was toeing the line, and he hoped she would not try to cross it. It would be a terrible shame for her to break her streak of good behavior toward her prince.

“We are leaving,” he repeated, deliberately slowly and pronouncing each word carefully to the point of sounding patronizing. “As soon as Anduin is sent home. Khadgar offered me a place in the Kirin Tor camp at Zangarra, which I intend to take him up on. From there we can coordinate with my Blacktalons to assist the armies of Azeroth in taking down the remainder of the Iron Horde.” He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a baffled look. “I really don’t see what part of this you’ve taken issue with, unless you’ve developed a crippling allergy to mushrooms.”

Left bared her tusks at him, not quite in a full threat display but enough to make a point. “Don’t play stupid with me, Prince, I respect you too much to fall for it.” Then she snorted. “At least, I did. After this I may need to reconsider placing my loyalty with someone who has none himself. You can never be a good mate to your prince if you are so willing to stand by while he leaves you.”

Wrathion sighed and leaned against the fence, looking around the circle to make sure Left’s scene hadn’t drawn too much attention yet. Despite his words to the healer, his wounds were aching and he wasn’t quite feeling up to a loud, public argument. “What do you want me to do, Left?” he asked. “Abandon my agents here on Draenor to do my dirty work for me while I follow Anduin back to Azeroth like a lost puppy? You may have noticed that I’m not welcome in Stormwind City, even if I was the type to abandon my work that way. The Iron Horde was created due to my cooperation with Kairozdormu, and as he is dead it’s my responsibility to see it destroyed. Surely you understand that to walk away would be dishonorable. Besides,” he added, turning his head slightly, “I thought you disapproved of my pursuing Anduin.”

“He’s small and could barely keep up with us,” Left pointed out. Her tusks clicked off each other, a habit of hers when she was thinking. “But he’s proved himself well enough, I think. What irritates me is your failure to make an effort for him. You see him only on your terms, when it is convenient for you. Acting like your chosen mate is simply another of your servants is unacceptable.” She glared at him, and Wrathion suddenly felt like a hatchling being lectured by his mother.

Holding him to Orcish standards was a frustrating habit of Left’s, one which he felt was very unfair. Right never expected him to act human, and he would certainly never ask them to behave like dragons. Still, he had learned enough to know that rejecting criticisms out of hand often led to him making the kind of mistakes that he was now trying to atone for, so he pushed down his initial indignation and took a moment to turn her words over in his head. Would Anduin want him to go back to Azeroth? There hadn’t been time to discuss it. If he stayed it would certainly make it more difficult for them to contact each other, but he was thinking of the long term. There was no better way to improve his standing with King Varian than by continuing to lend his help to the war effort, and that would be a crucial step in seeing more of Anduin whether he liked it or not.

If he did well enough, he might even be allowed to visit Stormwind one day without worrying about guards picking him out from the crowd and rounding him up. That alone would be a great reward, even if it wasn’t also Anduin’s home. Everything he’d heard about the capital city made it sound like one of the grandest places on Azeroth. His plan wasn’t perfect in the present, but he had to hope that it would help in the long term. “If I talk to Anduin about my idea, will you stop lecturing me?” he asked. “I know I need to.”

Left hummed noncommittally. Wrathion sighed again. That was all he was likely to get until she got out of her bad mood. The fence wobbled slightly as he pushed off of it, the only sign that the garrison had just recently been repaired. A small, nonessential structure like a decorative fence was more likely to be forgotten than a command center or mage tower. It was to the mage tower that he was headed, to wait for Khadgar’s release from the healers and get a head start on becoming used to his new role. It would also provide a more private location for an argument, should he have to fight to force Khadgar to make good on his offer.

The mages on their shift maintaining the tower’s portal looked at him oddly when he appeared on the top platform. He smiled at them and went to the railing to look out across the garrison, waiting for sunrise and the beginning of the day. He’d stationed Left and Right at the entrance, more to announce his presence to new arrivals than to guard him against danger. The nearest threat had been eliminated and Varian Wrynn was no longer overtly threatening to kill him, so for the first time he felt very safe in Lunarfall. Breathing in deeply, he savored the scents of the night air, so different from the damp cave he’d just come from. Draenor really was a beautiful planet, almost as much so as Azeroth.

From his vantage point atop the tower he had a clear view of the barracks door, and so when Archmage Proudmoore was released from treatment he was able to follow her with his eyes all the way up to the town hall. He knew there were desks inside, and a quiet room perfect for composing a detailed account of all that had transpired in the catacombs. Mages like her put a lot of importance in writing down events, so that they might serve as a reference for the future. It was unlikely that anyone would see her again that day.

Next to leave was Varian, and Wrathion’s heart jumped when he saw that Anduin was following behind his father. The rest had done him some good, and they were talking as they went. They headed into the inn and were gone from his view. That was troubling. Wrathion had expected Khadgar to be let go before either of them, giving him plenty of time to sort out his new unofficial position with the Kirin Tor before he had to find Anduin for what he suspected would be his last chance to say goodbye. He tapped his claws off the railing and stared down impatiently at the barracks. What was taking so long?

Valuable minutes passed, agonizingly slowly yet unstoppable in their progression. Eyes darting anxiously now from the barracks to the inn, Wrathion could not stop imagining that he saw Anduin leaving with his bag of possessions. He would have to pass by here to take the portal network to Stormwind, but there would be no time to talk. He would not want to say the things he needed to say in front of an audience of the tower mages and Varian Wrynn in any case. If only he could manipulate time like a Bronze, this nerve-wracking wait would cease to be a problem.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Another polite nod at the tower mages and he headed back downstairs. Left and Right hadn’t moved from their positions at the door, but their crossbows were slung on their shoulders and he could tell they were trying not to scare passers-by. “You two wait here,” he instructed them. “I won’t be long. If the Archmage gets back, tell him I’d like to talk to him.” He waited for their nods of confirmation, and then took to the air.

* * *

 

Anduin folded up his spare shirt as slowly as possible. His father had escorted him out of the healer’s wing as soon as he’d been cleared to leave, complaining the entire time about how impossible it was to get any kind of rest in those places. He was sleeping now in his own room, having posted a guard in the hallway and given Anduin strict instructions to wake him as soon as he was ready to leave for home. In essence, Anduin knew that meant he was to get his father as soon as his things were all packed up. If he went by the exact words, he felt it would be a very long time before he was ready to leave.

He remembered very little of their battle. The healers had kindly explained to him that he had collapsed, which was humiliating but not surprising. One of the few things he did remember was the constant whispering of the void, echoing in his head and making him feel dizzy and weak even as he tried to keep up with the others. Varian, for his part, had gruffly patted him on the shoulder and told him that he’d done a wonderful job shielding the group, which was more than he had expected to hear about his contributions to a fight he was not even supposed to have been present for. Since Khadgar and Jaina were being treated only for surface injuries and Varian only had a few deep wounds, he supposed he must have been doing all right before passing out. He was only glad they had managed to beat Ner’zhul so soon afterward, or things would have gone much worse.

It was a shame he’d had to die like that. In a pocket of the void, consumed by its energies, Anduin couldn’t think of a worse place to die. Ner’zhul had been too far gone, he reminded himself. Too full of dark magic to listen to reason or care that his soul was in jeopardy. Even so, he felt like there was more he could have done. He could have at least tried to extend a hand, a way back from the brink. As a priest, he would have to do better in the future.

Picking up his canteen to pack it, he paused at the weight of water splashing around inside it. Wouldn’t need that anymore. With a sad sigh, he carried it over to the window to dump it out. As soon as he unlatched it and pushed it open he found himself suddenly pushed out of the way by a landing dragon. It was only through luck and a good amount of flailing that he avoided tumbling to the floor.

“How did you know I was coming?” Wrathion asked, shifting back to his human form and brushing off his coat.

“I didn’t.” Anduin gestured helplessly at his canteen. “I was taking care of this.” Recovering from the surprise, he unscrewed the cap and poured it out onto the grass below, then shut the window firmly. “It’s good to see you. When I saw you weren’t in the medical wing I got worried.”

“That’s a strange thing to worry about,” Wrathion said. “Most people would have the opposite reaction.” He smiled briefly, then the expression fell from his face and left behind a more measured, cautious one. Belatedly, it struck Anduin why he had come. Soon he would taking the portal network home, stopping at Ashran to join his father in a quick inspection and then moving on to Stormwind. It would be impossible for Wrathion to follow, Varian had expressly forbidden it. He was here to say goodbye.

“Only because I know you hide when you’re hurt,” Anduin said, trying to keep the sadness out of his voice. A gentle, teasing tone was better, he had to keep the mood up so he wouldn’t break down. “I thought you might have gone off somewhere to lick your wounds.”

“They’re almost healed now, and I wouldn’t want to waste my chance to see you off.” Wrathion took a step closer so he could press their foreheads together, an action both familiar and comforting. One of his hands came to rest on the back of Anduin’s head, stroking through the hair there in a mimicry of a nuzzle from a dragon’s nose. “Left thinks I’m being irresponsible to let you go alone,” he admitted.

Anduin hugged him tightly, then stepped back to look him in the eye. He wanted to get through to Wrathion, just in case he was ruminating too much on what Left thought. “I know you would come with me if you had a choice,” he said. “I’ll be fine, going to Stormwind alone isn’t the same as going to a battle. At least, not usually.” He shot a sidelong glance at the dividing wall between his room and his father’s. “Just promise me that you’ll write to me, from wherever you end up.”

“Talador,” Wrathion blurted out, and immediately relaxed like it was a cough he’d been trying to suppress. “I’m going back to Talador. Archmage Khadgar told me that he would welcome my help in the camp at Zangarra, he always needs someone to go adventuring for him. From there I can keep watch on this iron beast I created, and if I can prove that I’m safe to be around I might be allowed to visit you. But yes, I will write, as much as I can. I promise.” He gripped Anduin’s hands tightly to impress on him the weight of that promise.

“How long have you had this worked out?” Anduin asked, surprised. He had advised Wrathion when they arrived at Lunarfall to try Khadgar as an opening to the closed front of the Alliance, but hadn’t expected him to listen. “It sounds perfect, I’m glad for you.”

“I still have to work out the details,” Wrathion admitted. “But I’ll do it. The Iron Horde still has several heads that need cutting off, and Azeroth’s armies are forming the weapons for it. I don’t want to be left out.”

Under the determination, Anduin could see that Wrathion was still reluctant. Choosing duty over wishes was never pleasant, and despite Wrathion’s commitment to Azeroth’s protection he sometimes resented the charge of his flight. Anduin hugged him again, resting his head on Wrathion’s shoulder. “Be careful,” he said quietly into his ear. “I won’t be there to heal you if you get hurt.”

Claws dug into his back as Wrathion hugged him back so hard he could barely breathe. “I will,” he replied. “I have to be in one piece when I see you again.” He was shaking, Anduin realized, and when he pulled away his jaw was set in a way that looked very like he was holding back his emotions. “You know that I love you, Prince Anduin?”

Anduin nodded. It was the first time Wrathion had said it, but he’d known. “I love you too.” The words caught in his throat, forcing them out almost hurt, but he would not cry. Not when they were both safe, and would see each other again. Making sure that this was a moment of hope and not despair felt even more important than stopping the invasion of Azeroth. He leaned in and kissed Wrathion hard, closing his eyes against the tears and reveling in the way it felt to be so close to him. It was something he would want to remember in the days and weeks ahead.

Although they could have stood there for hours, lost in each other, the real world had its way of intruding. For Anduin, that moment came when Varian turned over in his sleep a room over, knocking his discarded belt off the end of the bed and sending it to the floor with a loud thunk. The noise startled Anduin out of his daze, and try as he might he could not forget what he was supposed to be doing any longer. Wrathion picked up on the change and moved back with a sigh. “I should go,” he said reluctantly, “if I want to catch the Archmage before he leaves.”

“I should too.” Anduin gestured at his fully packed bag. “I only have to make sure everything is there.”

Hand in hand, they swept over Anduin’s room looking for missed belongings. He hadn’t brought many things with him, so it was a formality more than anything else. Then Wrathion kissed him one last time and took off out the window for the mage tower. Anduin watched him go until he disappeared over the wall, closed the window, and picked up his bag. At the door he took a last look at the room, then he turned his back to it and went to go wake his father. It was time to go home.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the epilogue! Short and sappy but vaguely open-ended, the best kind of conclusion. If meaningless fluff where nothing interesting happens isn't your thing, maybe skip this. 
> 
> I'm taking a break from serious writing with schedules for a while to relax, but I promise not to vanish into the mists. Thanks again everyone for reading!

A cool breeze came in through the open window, carrying with it the first hints of autumn. It ruffled through Anduin’s hair and caused goosebumps to raise all down his arms. He got up from his seat and started over to close the window, but then had a different idea and made for his closet instead. Pulling on a coat, he looked around the room for his boots. It was a rare day off for him, he might as well take advantage of the clear weather while it lasted and go outside for a change.

Since his return to Stormwind, his father had been reluctantly called away more and more on military business. In his absence, Anduin was left to conduct meetings with allies and ambassadors from the Horde to negotiate the ever-changing terms of their tentative peace. Nobody wanted an all-out faction war, especially not now when the situation on Draenor was escalating. The rumors he’d heard from returning troops, supported by the vague explanations from his father and rare but more detailed letters from Wrathion, painted a grim picture. The Iron Horde had upped their offenses in the wake of Ner’zhul’s defeat, and the escaped Shadow Council was an ever-looming threat.

Wrathion kept telling him not to worry, that he was working very hard to fix things and that the travel necessary for his duties made it hard to write regularly. If he was still on Draenor with Wrathion, sharing the work and staring at the conflict up close, Anduin was sure it would be easier to set his fears aside. Being so far distant, however, gave him a different perspective. He could not see the day-to-day victories that Wrathion exulted about, he only knew what he could glean from periodic updates. And from what he could see, nothing was getting any better despite the best efforts of all of Azeroth. Every time his father went away for a war meeting or to command a battle, Anduin felt sick with fear until he returned. And he counted every day that passed without word from Wrathion.

The letters he got were a joy to receive, even if they were too embarrassing to open while his father was at home. Now that they were unable to speak face to face, Wrathion was far more willing to bring attention to his feelings. He seemed to enjoy writing as poetically as possible, flattering Anduin with flowery words and elaborate compliments until he had to set the letters aside and bury his burning face in his hands. But each note took longer to arrive, and every update on the war sounded more tired than the last.

Determined not to spend his day brooding, he made his way down the ornate front steps of the Keep and rounded the corner to walk along the canals. Without a hat it was still a little too chilly to stay outside for very long, but a trip to the lake would do him some good. It was one of his favorite spots in the city, perfect for when he needed to clear his head and remember what he loved about his home. The footpath passed around the edges of the smoky Dwarven district, and he ducked his way through the crowd dispersing from the afternoon tram from Ironforge. In all the rush, he was able to slip through without anybody recognizing him.

Anonymity was a privilege he enjoyed for only a short time. As he got closer to the lake he began to pass by homes rather than shops. The inhabitants of this distract knew his habits, and he was not an uncommon sight there. He returned their greetings with a smile and a wave, but did not stop to chat with anyone. Today wasn’t a day for that. It was a day for recharging, so that he could take on the next job his father gave him with all of his energy on reserve.

He couldn’t stay out for long, not even with the promise of the afternoon off. Nothing was set in stone during wartime, he might be needed at any moment. So after allowing himself a short walk along the edge of the lake to watch the fish jumping and listen to the few birds that had not yet migrated away, he turned around and headed back to the Keep. The trip back always seemed to take less time, and he had often wondered if it was because he had already traced the route that day or if he was unconsciously hurrying himself along.

Once back inside, the air that had seemed so cold before he’d left felt uncomfortably warm. As soon as he was back in his room he opened the window as wide as possible and shed his coat, waiting for his body to reach equilibrium again. He appreciated these rare rest days, but found himself wishing that something would happen. Nothing bad, just serious enough that his father would call for him and explain some of what the army was dealing with. He could handle bad news, it was the suspense that was eating him from the inside out.

A knock at his door made him jump. Sitting upright again, he brushed his hands through his hair a few times to make himself look like he hadn’t just been lounging around his bedroom while others did all the hard work. “Who is it?” he called. Probably a guard assigned to check on him now and then, or an adventurer on an errand.

The door opened a crack, admitting one of the royal guards. He was indistinguishable from the others behind his mask, but he carried himself in a friendly manner that made Anduin smile. “Your father just returned from the front,” the guard said, clearly delighted to be delivering good news. “He wants to see you as soon as you have a free moment.”

“I’ll go now.” Anduin stood, excited to hear any news that his father might have brought back with him. He knew that the most recent battle had been shaping up to be a major one. If he was being summoned for a private meeting right afterward, did that mean it had gone poorly? Or was varian just trying to make sure he stayed informed and didn’t hear anything secondhand? “Where is he?”

“Last I saw him, he was just getting in.” The guard pointed Anduin down the hall. “He could be anywhere now, but he said to tell you to meet him in one of the petitioner’s chambers.”

That was an odd choice, Anduin thought as he thanked the guard and turned away. Usually when his father wanted to talk to him, it took place in one of their rooms or over dinner. The petitioner’s chambers weren’t even nearby, they were all the way on the other side of the castle, near the main entrance. The only reason to call him all the way down there was if Varian had gone into one immediately after arriving home and not left it yet. Usually he would at least bathe and have a meal after coming home from a battle. Hopefully this uncharacteristic behavior didn’t mean something was wrong. Just in case, Anduin walked faster. Better to find out sooner rather than later what his father wanted.

* * *

 

When he arrived several minutes later, having already spun hundreds of nightmare scenarios in his head, his father met him at the chamber door. His expression was serious, but not wrathful or grief-stricken. Anduin abandoned several of his more hideous fears. “Welcome home, father.” He tried for a smile, and was pleased to find that he could conjure one. Their strained relationship was not beyond mending, although it had taken him some time before he could meet privately with Varian and not walk on eggshells the entire time. “I was told you wanted to see me.”

Varian returned his greeting with a quiet hum. He looked uncertain about something, but before Anduin could ask what was wrong his face settled into a more decisive look. He took a step back and waved Anduin in. “I have something for you.”

“That’s all?” Anduin grinned at his father, a weight coming off his shoulders. “Why all the secrecy, then? You could have just-”

He didn’t manage to finish explaining what Varian could have done, because when the door swung shut behind them it revealed Wrathion, stepping out from his hiding place in the corner with a smug smile. Anduin didn’t consciously move, and looking back he would not remember how it happened, but when he came back into full awareness he had launched himself at Wrathion and threw his arms around his shoulders, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “What are you _doing_ here? I thought you were in Gorgrond!”

“I was,” Wrathion told him, obviously pleased with himself for having earned such a reaction. “Up until yesterday. I finished my job there and with everything going on, Khadgar told me there was nothing else for me to do so I might as well take a break.”

Something in his voice when he spoke alerted Anduin. “What do you mean, everything going on?” he asked, reluctantly extracting his face from Wrathion’s shoulder to look up at his face. He hadn’t changed one bit, and Anduin hadn’t expected him too but it was somehow still a relief. “Has something happened?”

“A great many things, but we can talk about them later.” Wrathion put a hand on his head and gently pushed down until he was resting again on his shoulder. “For now, I don’t want to think about it.”

It must have been something very bad, to silence Wrathion that way, and yet Anduin found that he did not want to think about it either. Wrathion’s shoulderpad was rough against his face and the tassels tickled his nose, but he couldn’t imagine anything more comfortable. For months, all he had wanted to do was this. Stand still, feel Wrathion against him and take in his scent, feel his hands holding onto him. In an instant, the time they’d spent apart faded into insignificance. It had been worth it, just for this moment.

Varian reminded them of his presence by clearing his throat. Anduin sighed and stepped back so as to avoid making his father more uncomfortable than necessary, but kept a stubborn grip on Wrathion’s hand in his own. “Thank you dad,” he said, smiling at Varian and ignoring the way his father avoided meeting his eyes out of embarrassment. It must have taken a lot for Varian to allow Wrathion access to the city, let alone the castle itself. Knowing that it was all for his sake that the two of them could agree to set their grudges aside, if only temporarily, made his heart swell.

“Years ago, I swore to myself that I would never let another of Deathwing’s kin walk freely inside Stormwind.” Varian stared at Wrathion, making his words fall heavily in the way that only he could. “Do not do anything to make me regret granting you an exception.”

Wrathion bent his head in a slight bow. “I would never dream of it,” he said. Then, tugging on Anduin’s hand, he led them toward the door. “So, how about a tour?”

Once again, the realization that Wrathion was _in his home_ washed over Anduin, making his head spin. He could feel a ridiculous grin growing on his face, and didn’t even bother trying to stop it. How long had he been dreaming of showing Wrathion Stormwind? Longer even than they’d spent together on Draenor, he was sure of it. There were so many places that they needed to go. The harbor, the lake, the castle library…

Those thoughts drained from his mind when Wrathion dragged him into the first semi-secluded corner they passed. “I thought I was showing you around?” he teased, but obligingly tilted his head back and allowed himself to be kissed hard.

“You are,” Wrathion said when they broke apart, both a little out of breath. “But what’s the hurry? I was promised at least three days off, and I intend to make the most of them.”

Three days. He had Wrathion for a full three days. Anduin sighed into another kiss, stroking the side of Wrathion’s face with one hand. “Let’s start our tour somewhere else, then,” he said, trying to moderate the excitement in his voice. “Somewhere a little less populated.” Arching his brows meaningfully, he indicated the corridor around them.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” Wrathion smiled and let Anduin lead him away down the hall.


End file.
